Taming the Darkness
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Yami Bakura is abducted and tortured by Yami Marik, who survived his defeat at the end of Battle City. Meanwhile, Bakura fights to find his friend before time runs out. Pendulum Swings verse.
1. Awakening

**Yu-Gi-Oh!**

**Taming the Darkness**

**By Lucky_Ladybug**

**Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This was inspired by Yami Marik's comment that he would enjoy taming the darkness, after Yami Bakura proclaimed himself the darkness. The Livejournal community Darkficprompts has helped it into being as well. These two make such great enemies that I found myself really regretting that they never clashed again in canon. I'll mostly be following the anime, as usual, but with a few manga things thrown in here and there. It's a series of connected but stand-alone vignettes, taking place at some point in my **_**Pendulum Swings**_** verse. Many thanks to Kaze and Lisa for plot help!**

**Awakening**

**Prompt: Underground**

"Wake up."

The voice was dark . . . amused . . . merciless, penetrating his consciousness. He had heard it before, he knew that much. . . . Somewhere not too long ago, and yet long enough ago that it might as well be another lifetime. . . . And as far as he was concerned, it was. . . . A lifetime---no, many lifetimes---when he had been infused with Zorc Necrophades, the personification of the shadows in people's hearts. . . . He had only recently gotten his own soul back. . . .

"Wake up, Ring spirit, so your demise can begin."

A hand grabbed hold of his hair, pulling it at the roots. A low growl built in his throat as he tried to pull away, to grab the hand and force it back. . . . But he could do nothing. His arms were stretched out, his wrists bound. And judging from the coldness around his ankles, so were they.

Actually, his entire body felt cold. His back was pressed against the rough surface of some kind of rock. There was some kind of cloth girded around his waist, hanging almost to his knees, but it felt like it was slit up both sides. And his feet were bare.

Who had done this to him? Who was talking? Why couldn't he placed that wretched voice?

His lips parted as he fought to speak. His voice did not want to come; he was still too deeply in the world of slumber, inspite of the realizations about his current state. But he was determined. With all of his willpower, he forced his vocal chords to vibrate.

"What's . . . who . . ."

"Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten me." The grip on his hair tightened and his head was pushed back. "And after you made such a specific vow to kill me the next time we met."

At last the voice fully reached his senses. He stiffened, disbelief and shock washing over him. "It . . . can't be . . ." he muttered. His eyes flew open, but only the darkness reached his retinas. The darkness . . . and a vague silhouette. He strained, battling to focus. Wild hair . . . veins . . . a glowing eye symbol on the forehead. . . .

"Yami Marik," he snarled.

"You do remember!" the madman exclaimed in mock delight.

"Of course I remember," his prisoner rasped. "And I also remember you were destroyed. Marik obliterated you."

"He rid himself of me," the dark entity purred, "but I was not obliterated. He can survive without me; so too can I survive without his body. I am complete on my own! And when I was fed to the darkness, my strength only grew. You should know all about that, though, shouldn't you, Ring spirit? One who claimed to be the darkness itself." He pulled harder on the whitish-lavender hair. "Or was that Zorc Necrophades talking?"

The other's eyes widened. "How do you know about Zorc?" he demanded.

"Didn't I mention? While I was in the shadows, I learned many things, including the fact that the being I thought I destroyed was composed of two entities---Thief King Bakura and Zorc Necrophades." He leaned in, his eyes wild. "Zorc Necrophades was vanquished by the Pharaoh, which means you are the thief---though you still go by 'Yami Bakura.' And I guess you'll have to do."

"Do?!" The Thief King struggled against the tight bonds. "What are you talking about?! What have you done?!"

The wicked smirk widened. "You don't remember? I took you away. I brought you to my domain." At last he let go of the hair, and did so with such force that Yami Bakura's head snapped back, hitting the hard and jagged surface to which he was chained. "It's about time for our rematch, don't you think?"

Completely awake now, Yami Bakura struggled harder against the vises binding him to the wall. "Release me at once!" he commanded. "I won't fight you like this."

"Don't worry, you'll be released," his enemy sneered. "Released into a world of nightmare and shadow unlike anything you've experienced, even with Zorc." His horrid expression twisted. "Remember, I also made a vow that fateful night. I vowed to tame the darkness. Now I will make good on that promise."

Yami Bakura was seething. Yami Marik had stripped him and left him bound to the wall as a deliberate indignation. And he could not deny that the thought of repaying him for this as well as for the past left a satisfying taste in his heart and soul.

His own expression twisted, his lavender eyes filled with relish. "Good!" he said. "Just try it and I will show you what true suffering is. I am complete without Zorc. And you will regret challenging me."

"I doubt that, but I'm glad to see you're as willing as ever." Yami Marik sneered. "You're very interesting in this form. Still, I wonder what happened to the boy whose body you once shared?"

Yami Bakura stiffened. From the other's tone, he knew exactly where Bakura was at this moment. "What have you done with him?!" he burst out.

Yami Marik's eyes only widened as the red lines raged against the white. "So it's true!" he exclaimed. "You've gone soft. You didn't care if you risked his safety in the past." Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Or were you just so confident in your victory that you didn't think he was in danger? I do remember, from seeing through Marik's memories, that you saved the boy's weak spirit from the attack of Slifer during the Battle City finals. You claimed it was just because you needed his body, but hmmm. I wonder."

"I don't have to justify myself to you," Yami Bakura growled. "Just tell me where he is."

Yami Marik stepped closer. "Well . . . some of him's here, some of him's there," he hissed. "You know, I had a lot of fun taking him apart. Of course, he didn't find it much fun at all."

Yami Bakura stared at him, his pupils wild with unbridled hatred. But then they darkened. "You're lying," he accused.

Yami Marik sneered again, baring his teeth. "You're right," he said. "But I saw what I needed to see. And don't think I won't use your feelings for that pathetic child against you."

He crossed his arms. "You aren't truly the darkness," he said. "You're just a man. But I will bring out your darkness! I will bring it out and then force it into submission. I will take you to your knees, making you hate me and then leading you to your utter destruction. And you won't have any way of knowing but what the boy will be offered up as a sacrifice to the true darkness along the way!"

"I'll kill you," Yami Bakura retorted, "just as I promised. You'll never have the chance to harm Bakura."

"Is that so?" Yami Marik's evil grin was nearly splitting his face. He knew something Yami Bakura did not.

"Yami?!"

Yami Bakura jerked up at the familiar call. "Bakura?" he gasped. He looked towards the sound of the cry. How could Bakura have found him so fast? Where was he?

The white-haired boy ran into view out of the darkness, breathing heavily. He stared at his friend, horror and sorrow in his gentle brown eyes to see him chained to the wall. "Oh Yami . . ." He moved to step forward. "Hold on, I'll get you out of this!"

"Oh you will, will you?" Yami Marik smirked more, reaching for something propped against the wall. Yami Bakura stared, his eyes widening in shock. It was a spear, a very familiar one at that.

And suddenly he knew what was going to happen.

"No, Bakura!" he burst out. "Go back; don't worry about me! It's a trap!"

Bakura did not even have the chance to react. Yami Marik thrust the spear, laughing madly as it stabbed into Bakura's stomach. The teen fell back, his eyes wide in agony. He could not even comprehend what had just happened. Shaking, he reached down, sweeping some of the fresh blood onto his fingers. He gaped at it, then looked up at the horrified Yami Bakura.

"Yami," he whispered. "I'm sorry. . . ."

Yami Bakura could not find his voice. He stared as the boy sank to the floor, the brown eyes fighting to stay open but failing. In a moment he was still.

"The Eon Spear. Am I right?" Yami Marik strolled over, as casual as if he was going to the living room television, and prodded the body with his foot. "A shame you can't get it out. You could save his life if you weren't bound to the wall."

Yami Bakura roared, straining at the bonds. The manacles dug into his wrists without mercy, cutting the tanned flesh. Blood ran down his arms, smearing on the wall and over the shackles. And no matter how he fought, he could not free himself. Bakura lay at his feet, lifeless and still.

Was it one of the demon's illusions? It was hard to say for sure. How could he trust that was true? What if it really was Bakura?! Yami Marik would not hesitate to strike him down . . . or would he?

. . . He would not want to kill Bakura immediately. He would want to drag out the torment, as he had mentioned doing in his horrible, unbelievable ways.

"Bakura," Yami Bakura said low. It was an illusion; it had to be. But where was the real Bakura? Was he safe? Was he worried sick? Well, if he knew Yami Bakura was missing, he definitely would be. And what if he did come here trying to save his friend? What would this devil do to him?

"It's no use!" Yami Marik cackled, mistaking the reason for Yami Bakura's despair. "You should know better than anyone that Bakura is beyond hope unless you can get to him. After all, the Eon Spear plunged through your body, too. That's why you have that scar on your abdomen, isn't it?"

Yami Bakura just gave him a cold, hateful look. "You no longer have the Millennium Rod," he said. "How do you know our private business?"

"I'll just keep some of my secrets," Yami Marik said. "You have bigger things to worry about." He pressed his foot against the bottom of the exit wound on Bakura's back. The boy never stirred.

Yami Bakura's eyes burned. He still believed it was an illusion . . . but what if he was wrong? He had to find out for certain. Again he strained against the manacles, to no avail. He was still hanging there, helpless, his fists clenched.

But he was still wearing the Infinity Ring. Could it possibly do anything? It was still so new to him, and sometimes it was temperamental, refusing to obey his commands. Yami Marik had driven him to such anger that he had not even thought about using it. Now he drew a shuddering breath, working to calm his badly-frayed nerves.

"Ring, shed light on this madness," he ordered. "Dispell his illusions!"

The silver ring glowed, seeming very agreeable to his words. But as it tried to do as commanded, it instead flickered and went out.

Yami Bakura stared at it. "This isn't a time for your nonsense!" he cried.

Yami Marik burst into crazed laughter. "Your magic item won't acknowledge you as its master!" he exclaimed. "No wonder you're having such a terrible time."

Yami Bakura glowered. "It was obeying me," he said. "You did something to stop it!"

The veins popped out on Yami Marik's face. "It's just the nature of this place," he said. "Don't you realize where we are?"

Yami Bakura looked around, his heart gathering speed. From what he could see, there was nothing but jagged rocks and slabs in all directions. Several tunnels snaked in different directions, all of them appearing dark and ominous. Stalactites and stalagmites protruded from the ceiling and the floor, only adding to the overall eerie decor.

"It looks like some kind of cave," he growled.

Yami Marik found this hilarious. "This," he said, spreading his arms wide, "is the bowels of Hell. And down here, I reign supreme. You will never escape!"

Yami Bakura stared at him. If he was still mortal, then Yami Marik could not mean it literally. But Yami Marik was known for creating personal Hells for each of his unfortunate victims.

And that could be worse.


	2. Mind Probe

**Mind Probe**

**Prompt: Taste**

_The demon leaned in next to the helpless former thief, his hot breath hitting the other in the face. His expression was grotesque, his eyes bloodshot as the veins stood out over his cheeks and forehead. His goals from Battle City were still the same; he craved destruction and suffering, to kill everyone until he was the only one left. And starting with this man, someone who was already his enemy, was perfect. He was relishing what he was doing now---and what he was about to do._

_"You know, it's interesting," he said, placing a hand on the wall just to the left of Yami Bakura's head. "I know about Zorc attaching himself to your spirit, but I know very little about you personally. You always kept your past to yourself. And apparently your secrets are lost in the sands of time."_

_  
"Of course," Yami Bakura growled. No one remembered the mad robber in history, and certainly not the truth behind the fabled Millennium Items' creation. No one had thought of him during his fusion with Zorc, either. No one had wondered what had happened to him or if he still existed. Even if they had, they would not have cared. Bakura was the only one since his childhood who cared what happened to him._

_"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Yami Marik sneered. "In order to properly torment you, I have to know all about you. I have to know what you fear. What pains you. Well, other than your former host's suffering."_

_Yami Bakura just glowered at him. "I've heard about how you saw into Mai Valentine's mind to torture her," he said. "But you needed the Millennium Rod for that. Despite your survival, I doubt you still have it. Unless you retrieved it from the hole into which it fell. And that might not be such a difficult feat for you; after all, it probably landed close to Hell!"_

_Yami Marik laughed, the wretched sound echoing off the walls near and far. "Oh, I've discovered other ways to harness the dark power I need," he said then._

_With that he brought up his other hand, pressing it against Yami Bakura's forehead with the thumb and third finger gripping his temples. Yami Bakura gasped and tried to jerk back, his eyes widening at the sudden pain. It felt like electricity was being charged directly to his skull and his brain. Yami Marik was trying to access his very memories!_

_"The main reason I have you chained up here is so that you can't resist my mind probe," Yami Marik hissed. "Not unless you can get that new Ring to work, and I told you it won't down here." He pressed harder._

_Yami Bakura gritted his teeth, turning his head away and pressing it against the wall. He had to fight this. He had to! His enemy was not giving up. And he really would access everything there was to know if Yami Bakura could not defend himself._

_Suddenly, unexplainably, the Infinity Ring glowed. Yami Marik let out a cry, releasing Yami Bakura's head as he fell back. He grabbed that hand with his other hand, staring in shock._

_Yami Bakura was just as surprised. But then he sneered. "What was that about the Infinity Ring not working down here?" he said._

_"How did you do that?!" Yami Marik demanded. He was still gripping his apparently-sore hand, injured from the electricity being sent back at him._

_  
"Why should I tell you?" Yami Bakura said. He was certainly not going to admit that he had no idea himself. "You should have known that I wouldn't simply let you pry into my memories."_

_Yami Marik grinned now, his eyes reclaming their wild look. "Then this is going to be even more fun than I thought," he said. "Maybe I can weaken you and then try again." He spread his left arm in a commanding gesture. A dark, nondescript creature began to rise from the depths of the floor, the fangs of its long muzzle bared._

_Yami Bakura's lip curled. "Surely you don't think I'd be afraid of a beast like that," he said._

_"No," Yami Marik agreed, "but I don't think you'll like what it wants to do."_

_It lunged, digging its teeth into Yami Bakura's waist. He clenched his teeth, his eyes wide with the pain. In desperation he tried to knee the thing away from him, but he was barely able to bend his leg. And the monster paid no heed._

_Yami Marik's grin widened in sickening delight. "And what would happen if it was joined by a few friends?" He threw out his right arm, summoning five more shadow creatures. They ran to the first, attacking the thief from all sides as they bit and clawed and kicked._

_Yami Bakura was fighting against them as best as he could, twisting from one side to the other, but to no avail. And though a scream of anguish was building in his throat, he struggled to choke it back. He did not want to give Yami Marik the satisfaction of hearing his agonized cry._

_Yami Marik watched in cruel satisfaction. "That's right, my beasts!" he exclaimed. "Feast upon his flesh!"_

_Yami Bakura still tried to be silent. He was fighting to mentally reach out to the Infinity Ring once more, but he could not concentrate. One beast sank its teeth into his left shoulder, while another gnawed on his right arm. The others were attacking his legs, sides, and chest._

_It was when one went for his throat that he screamed._

****

Ryou Bakura flew upright, his heart racing and his eyes wide in horror. "Yami!" he cried. He was chalk-white, drenched in cold sweat.

And he had been laying on the floor. He looked around the room, only barely processing this fact as he trembled.

"Why . . . why am I here?" he whispered.

In fact, why was the furniture down here with him? The entire room was in an uproar. The couch was upsidedown, a chair on its side. Pictures were hanging so crooked on the walls that it was a wonder they were hanging at all.

And that dream . . . ! That horrible, heart-wrenching dream! It had felt so real. . . . But . . . how could it be? Yami Marik had been destroyed. He could not have come and taken Yami Bakura.

But obviously _someone_ had come. And Yami Bakura was nowhere to be seen in the room.

Bakura gingerly rubbed his aching head as he pulled himself to his feet. "Yami?" he called, his voice weak and quavering. "Yami, where are you?"

He stumbled through the house, holding onto the walls for balance. Everything was a mess in every room. And something else was always the same, too---there was never any sign of the ancient thief. Bakura was alone in the upturned house.

When he got to his room, he stumbled inside and sank onto the bed, his legs suddenly weak. If . . . if what he had dreamed was real, and Yami Bakura was really being tortured by Yami Marik and a pack of hellhounds . . . was he even still alive? Could he survive such a horrible assault? One of the creatures had been sinking its teeth into his throat.

Bakura's shoulders slumped as the tears came. It was not a dream. Somehow he knew that. His Yami had been taken and he could not even remember it happening. He had probably been knocked unconscious and had not even seen it.

Still . . . would he have been shown Yami Bakura's predicament if there was no hope?

He looked up, his eyes filling with determination. He could call Yugi. If anyone would know how to save Yami Bakura, surely Yugi---the former bearer of the Millennium Puzzle and Pharaoh Atem's spirit---would.

"Please help me save him," he prayed. "He doesn't deserve this. And I . . . I want him back. . . ."

It was strange, how close they had become. But their bond was undeniable. It had begun to form when Bakura had held the Millennium Ring. Now that it--and Zorc---were gone and Yami Bakura had been given a second chance at mortality with the Infinity Ring, their connection had deepened. They were friends. Even the thief had come to acknowledge that, in his own gruff way. Bakura refused to lose him now, especially to Yami Marik's torment.

It was when he stepped into the hall to find what had become of the telephone that he saw the confirmation of his fears. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of deep-red words painted on the wall.

_I've taken something precious to you._

_If you ever get him back, he won't be the same._

Bakura clapped a hand over his mouth. His blood . . . it was written in Yami Bakura's blood. . . .

He sank to his knees, reaching for the fallen telephone. But it was in pieces, the cords slashed. He ran his hands into his hair.

He would go to the game shop and speak to Yugi in person. He would bring Yugi here to see this horror. Yugi would be sickened too. And inspite of his own personal feelings towards Yami Bakura, he would help Bakura save the poor Egyptian. Bakura could count on it.

****

Yugi was just placing the new Duel Monsters booster packs on the shelf when the bell rang over the door. He blinked, looking up at the visitor. "Bakura!" he gasped. His friend looked terrible. His skin was ashen, his eyes haunted.

Yugi could not help it; the first thought that sprang to his mind was _Did his Yami do something awful again?_ It had not been that long since they had learned that the tomb raider was alive and living with Bakura. Yugi had vowed to trust Bakura's judgment, and yet, knowing everything Yami Bakura had done in the past made him understandably wary.

"Yugi, please help me," Bakura said, his voice cracking.

"Bakura, what's wrong?!" Yugi exclaimed, hurrying to the other teen's side.

Bakura's eyes welled with tears. "Yugi, I know this will make me sound mad, but please hear me out." He stared into the shorter boy's violet eyes. "Yami Marik has taken my Yami."

Yugi's mouth dropped open. That was the last thing he had expected to hear, for so many reasons. "What?!" he cried. "But Yami Marik is . . ."

"Yes, I know!" Bakura interrupted. "But I know it was him. I just know it."

Yugi listened as Bakura told him all that he knew. His heart twisted at the descriptions of the bloody message and the dream. Clearly, someone had abducted Yami Bakura. And if the dream was more than just a dream, and was indeed some kind of vision or warning, then . . .

_"Yugi. . . ."_

Yugi froze at the sudden voice in his mind . . . a voice he had not heard and had longed to hear for ages. A voice belonging to a dear friend whom he had been forced to say goodbye to in Egypt, at the door to the afterlife. . . .

"Atem?!" he burst out.

Bakura stared. "Atem?" he repeated in shock. "Yugi, what on earth . . ."

Yugi was not listening to him. "Atem, what is it?" he exclaimed.

_"Yugi, I sent Bakura that dream. It was a vision of what the thief is currently experiencing. You can save him from Yami Marik's evil."_

"B-But how?" Yugi asked. "And how is Yami Marik back? Marik hasn't . . ."

_"Yami Marik has endured on his own in the darkness. Since he was created from the darkness in Marik's heart, being thrust into the darkness couldn't kill him."_

"I never thought of it that way," Yugi said, alarmed.

_"Neither did I."_ A sigh. _"As for what he's done now and how to stop him, there are those who can and will help you find him and Bakura's Yami. The thief's life is important to this future battle between good and evil. But more than that . . . his life is important to Bakura. And no one deserves to suffer at the hands of Yami Marik._

_"I believe in you, Yugi. But you don't have much time. You have to save Yami Bakura as soon as possible!"_

Yugi clenched a fist. "I won't let you down, Atem," he vowed. "Or Bakura and his Yami."

He looked to the bewildered Bakura, still reeling from hearing Atem---and from what he had been told. But he pushed his feelings back. He had to stay calm. After all, it was Bakura whose friend was in trouble, and he was struggling to remain levelheaded. Yugi did not like or trust Yami Bakura, but he was horrified and panicked at the thought of what Yami Marik was doing to the thief. It was true---no one deserved that fate.

And he could not help it, but even under such grim circumstances, he had been overjoyed to hear from Atem. He had longed to talk to his friend again ever since he had departed at the end of the Ceremonial Battle. Yugi could not help wondering now whether he might even see Atem at some future time, perhaps when it was time for this fight between good and evil.

"Sorry about that," he said now. "I was talking to Atem. He . . ." He swallowed hard. "He sent us both messages from the afterlife."

Bakura's eyes widened in realization. "The dream? . . ."

Yugi nodded. "We're going to rescue your Yami, Bakura," he said. "And I have an idea. Who knows more about Yami Marik than anyone else?"

For the first time, a bit of hope shone in Bakura's eyes. "Marik!" he realized.

Yugi smiled in confirmation. "Let's go talk to Marik," he said, heading for the door.

Bakura immediately followed.


	3. Labyrinth

**Labyrinth**

**Prompt: Adrenaline**

Yami Bakura groaned as awareness began to return. His lavender eyes slid open halfway, unfocused as they blankly stared at the floor somewhere below him. He was still bound to the slab. And he ached all over.

Was he really alive? Yami Marik's creatures had been biting into him, tearing away anything they could get. And the last thing he remembered was one of them ripping his throat. . . .

"Awake again, eh?"

He turned his weary head to look at the devil, who was standing with crossed arms and a smug smirk. Seeing the wretch look so amused and knowing only made him furious. But instead of showing it, he just fought to speak.

"What . . . what happened to me?"

"Oh, don't go spoiling it by making me tell you," Yami Marik grinned. "It could have been one of several things. I could have called my beasts off in time to save your life. Maybe they tore you to pieces and I put you back together." He stepped closer. "Or maybe it was all in your mind."

Yami Bakura just gave him a hateful glare. Yami Marik leaned back, pleased with himself.

"I don't think I'll tell you the truth," he said. "It'll make it a lot more interesting if you can't distinguish between truth and fiction."

Yami Bakura's lip curled. As best as he could, he looked himself over, from one arm to the other and down at his torso and legs. He was definitely whole; there was not a scratch on him, save for the scar in his abdomen---and, it was to be assumed, the one on his face.

It had to have been an illusion, of course. That was how Yami Marik operated. But he would not say anything aloud and give the demon more incentive to torture and confuse him. If he could just tap into more of the Infinity Ring's mysterious powers! . . . Maybe there would be a way to get down from here if he could only master the strange thing. Shadi was not making it easy for him. Not that he did not enjoy challenges, but after all this time he would have thought he would be better at using the magic item.

Maybe, since it seemed to be semi-sentient, it was still not convinced that he was a worthy bearer. Not that he really believed he was, either.

He started back to the present as the bands around his wrists and ankles fell away. Unprepared and weakened, he stumbled, nearly crashing to the floor. He growled, shooting out a hand to steady himself.

"Now what are you doing?" he demanded.

"Is that any way to treat the one who's setting you free?" Yami Marik sneered.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Yami Bakura said. "We both know you're not really letting me go."

"Not without a game, anyway," Yami Marik said. "I'll tell you what. Since I'm feeling so generous today, I'll let you go if you find the right way out." He gestured at the wide variety of pathways on three sides.

Yami Bakura growled. "For you to even suggest that, you must know it will be almost impossible for me to find it," he said. "However, I'll take your challenge. And if I do discover the exit, you had better let me use it if you don't want to learn what kinds of Hells _I_ can create."

Yami Marik cackled. "That fighting spirit you're so known for," he said. "You're feisty. But I'll break you. When I'm done with you, there will be nothing even faintly recognizable in your personality. You, the formerly great Thief King Bakura, will be a devastated shell." He paused, a hand to his chin. "It will almost seem sad, to be done with you. But I'll have other projects to occupy my time with."

Yami Bakura was not impressed. "You realize that by threatening me, you're only increasing my fighting spirit," he said. "I will give battle tooth and nail to make sure you don't win."

"Of course! That's part of the fun." Yami Marik grinned. "It would be boring if you just caved in here and now. I want to see you gradually lose your mind." He pointed to the passageways around them. "You'd better get started, Thief."

Yami Bakura limped past him with a cold glare, heading for the nearest path. It was dark and cold, the only light coming from where Yami Marik was standing---and that was only an ominous bluish-purple light at that.

When he was out of hearing range, he looked down at the Infinity Ring. "Ring, allow me to see where I'm going," he ordered. "And show me if this is the correct path." One similarity between it and the Millennium Ring was the ability to be used as a compass, as he had discovered during the misadventure that had left him with the scar in his stomach. If it would behave now, perhaps it would not be so difficult to get out of this madman's game.

Yet he really knew it would not be that simple.

The silver ring glowed, illuminating the trail ahead of him. But when it tried to obey his second command, it paused. Then the beam started spinning wildly in all directions. He stopped, glaring at it.

"Make up your mind!" he scolded.

Finally it did, pointing deeper into the tunnel. He grunted. "That's more like it."

He limped on, placing a hand on the wall for balance. Being chained to the wall for so long had left his limbs shaking and weak. And his wrists were still raw from where the manacles had dug into them when he had tried to free himself. But it was all minor; he could certainly handle the pain.

He had possessed a masochistic streak for millennia, ever since he had knelt in the blood of Kul Elna and had realized that he, too, was bleeding. The accompanying pain had been his proof of existence, letting him know that he had not perished with the rest of his village. And years later, after Zorc had attached to his spirit and brought out and magnified his darkest traits, he had come to even more fully appreciate the pain and the blood. As he had sunk further into the darkness, absorbed by Zorc's spirit, pain had still been his proof of existence. As long as he had still felt it, he had counted himself fortunate; he had known he was not completely gone.

He stiffened again at the sound of something coming through the tunnel from the other direction. What was it? It did not sound like a person's footsteps. . . .

He stared as one of Yami Marik's shadow beasts padded into the light cast by the Infinity Ring. Was it going to attack? He should blast the wretched thing here and now. But wait . . . it was not interested in him. . . . It was just walking on past.

The thing was carrying a severed and bloodied arm in its mouth.

An arm in the torn sleeve of a cream-colored sweater.

His eyes widened, the pupils shrinking in his horror. Then he stumbled away from the hellhound, moving quicker up the path. The jagged and sharp ground cut into his bare feet, but he paid no heed. The road did not go much further beyond this point; the Infinity Ring was illuminating the sight of a wall up ahead. . . . A wall painted with blood. . . . And on the floor beneath it . . .

He dropped to his knees as he arrived, trembling at the monstrous sight. The blood and gore . . . the mutilated remains . . . the white hair, now stained red. . . . It was one of the dire predictions Yami Marik had made concerning his own possible fate. But it was not his body laying here, picked over by the shadow beasts.

For a long moment he stared, shaking, unable to comprehend or believe. "Bakura," he rasped.

Then he turned, his eyes flaming hatred. It was another illusion. Everything he had seen down this road was in his mind. Maybe even the Ring pointing down this path to freedom was a figment of his imagination.

He stood, running back the way he had come. In his mind he screamed obscenities and foul names directed at his captor, but he said nothing aloud. He would not give Yami Marik that pleasure. When he got back to where he had started, however, he would be the one taking pleasure. He would make Yami Marik suffer for this outrage.

Yet as he reached the head of the tunnel, he stopped short in disbelief. Yami Marik was not there. Instead it was Bakura, healthy and well, but smirking as he twirled the Eon Spear like a baton.

"Hello, Yami," he greeted.

Yami Bakura stared at him. "Bakura . . ." Then he growled. "No, you're another illusion."

"I am?" Bakura lunged, sweeping the pointed end of the spear directly at the thief. "I don't think so, Yami."

Yami Bakura jerked back. "What do you think you're doing?!" he snapped.

Bakura laughed. "I just grew a little tired of things," he said. "Being possessed, used to take over the world . . . it gets old after a while."

Yami Bakura clenched a fist. "It isn't that way anymore," he said.

"And thank heavens for that!" Bakura said. "You have your own body now. But you're still living at my house. Frankly, I'm fed up with it. Why can't I ever be rid of you?"

Even if it was an illusion, Yami Bakura felt his heart prick. Still, he had to keep his wits about him. Bakura did not feel this way at all. Bakura loved him and wanted him around. Bakura had risked his own life to save Yami Bakura from the magical Eon Spear. That was the truth, not what was before his eyes.

"Be silent and be gone," Yami Bakura said, moving to walk past.

Bakura thrust the Eon Spear horizontally in front of him. "You just don't want to admit it," he said. "But it gets far worse than simply that I don't want you around. Remember when you said you hadn't taught me anything?" He sneered, his visage an eerie mirror of Yami Bakura's own. "Well, you were wrong, Yami---you taught me how to be evil. I believe I'll follow in your footsteps now."

This revelation stunned him again. "Have you gone mad?!" he burst out, not caring that he was talking to a figment of his imagination.

"Yes, I have!" Bakura exclaimed. "And it's all thanks to you!" Again he lunged with the spear, his once-sweet eyes wild.

Yami Bakura dodged to the side, grabbing hold of the weapon's staff. "Bakura, stop this," he ordered. "You don't want to become what I was."

Bakura's eyes flamed as he tried to pull the staff back. "So you're still telling me what to do?!" he snapped.

"I don't want to see you ruin your life!" Yami Bakura retorted.

"You already ruined it for me!" Bakura said. "You should rejoice, Yami. Didn't you hope I'd be an asset to your cause? Didn't you want me to turn evil like you?"

"NO!" Yami Bakura yelled. "Why do you think I always tried to make sure your spirit was sleeping? It wasn't just so you wouldn't interfere with my plans. I didn't want you to see what I was doing. I didn't want to spoil your innocence."

"Well," Bakura said, unaffected, "isn't that touching."

Abruptly he let go of the spear, shoving it forward with such force that Yami Bakura would lose his balance. Then he reached under his sweater, pulling out a familiar golden object. "Do you recognize this, Yami?"

Yami Bakura stumbled, but caught himself. Then he could only stare. "Bakura," he gasped. And suddenly he was angry. "What do you think you're doing?! How did you get that?"

Bakura laughed, waving the Millennium Ring at him. "It's like you said, Yami, down here it wasn't very hard to get it!" he said. "And there's an old friend of yours still sealed inside."

"What?!" Yami Bakura's eyes widened. "No, that's impossible. Zorc was . . ."

The Ring glowed. Bakura's expression contorted in sick delight as a horrid shadow appeared behind him, growing larger by the moment. "I'm going to seal you away again, Yami!" he exclaimed. "And this time Zorc will consume you!"

Yami Bakura trembled, staring up at the materializing beast that he had prayed to never see again. Zorc's eyes glowed in the darkness, his teeth and claws cruel as he reached to take hold of the thief. But then, without warning, he grabbed hold of Bakura instead.

_"You are the one wearing the Millennium Ring, my pawn,"_ he said. _"Your spirit is the one I will absorb!"_

Bakura screamed in pain and fear as he was lifted off the ground. And for just a moment his eyes flickered, showing a spark of the good person he had once been.

Yami Bakura ran forward, gripping the spear. He was still afraid, but he knew what had to be done. He would never forgive himself if things continued in this vein. Bakura had been corrupted by the Ring's evil, just as Yami Bakura had during his mortal life. He did not deserve this!

"Zorc!" he yelled. "Let him go. It was my spirit you leeched off of for millennia."

Zorc peered down at him, still gripping Bakura tightly in one hand. _"What's your point, Thief King?"_ he asked.

"Release the boy! I . . ." Yami Bakura swallowed hard. "I will take his place."

_"Hmm. Interesting."_ Zorc hesitated, seeming to think about this. But then, without letting go of Bakura, he reached for Yami Bakura too. _"Or maybe I will absorb you both."_

The intense fear pricked Yami Bakura's heart as he was gathered in Zorc's other hand. The dark entity was exploring his mind again, pushing to get inside, pushing to take over. . . . And he could feel Bakura's pain and fear as Zorc did the same to him. . . .

"No!" Yami Bakura yelled. "Curse you! Let Bakura go! Don't take us both!"

Bakura looked over at him, blinking as if awakening from a bad dream. "Yami?" he whispered.

Yami Bakura looked back. Bakura appeared as he always had, kind and gentle, bewildered and frightened at what was going on. And Zorc was still pushing, trying to get into their minds. . . .

Wait . . .

"What is _wrong_ with me?!" Yami Bakura fumed. "None of this is real!"

He dropped to the ground on one knee as both Zorc and Bakura faded. Now he could see the reality of the situation---all this time he had been fighting with and talking to Yami Marik. At the moment the devil had his hand pressed against Yami Bakura's forehead again, sneering as he attempted the mind probe. Infuriated, Yami Bakura shoved with both hands, pushing him back. Yami Marik grunted as he stumbled, angry at his plans being halted once more.

"You found that quite amusing, didn't you," Yami Bakura said darkly as he got to his feet.

Yami Marik sneered at him. "Yes, quite," he said. "Who knew you were so vulnerable or that seeing Bakura gone evil would affect you so deeply?"

Yami Bakura snarled. He wanted to say that he would kill Yami Marik right now for what he had done. He wanted to _do_ it. But even if he tried, would that be an illusion too? Would Yami Marik want him to attack for that very reason? If Yami Bakura thought he had succeeded but actually had not, Yami Marik could get the better of him.

And how would he even destroy the other? Perhaps it would not be possible without determining how to make the Infinity Ring cease its erratic behavior. No, as much as he wanted to let loose with his full fury, he had to restrain himself for now. But once he figured out what was going on and how to overcome it all, then Yami Marik had better watch out.

"I'm still going to find the exit if it's here to be found," he said. "And I won't allow you to pull me into one of your made-up worlds again."

"Oh you won't, eh?" Yami Marik grinned. "The more you try to remove yourself from this maze, the more you'll be dragged inside. As time goes on, it will be harder and harder for you to tell truth from illusion, until the line vanishes altogether!"

"We'll just see about that," Yami Bakura snapped. He whirled, heading for another tunnel.

Yami Marik crossed his arms and laughed as the thief vanished into the darkness.

"You can run," he said, "but you can't hide. I've already learned a lot about you. And I'm going to learn more."

Stealthily he stepped into place behind Yami Bakura, ready to enact the next phase of his abominable plan. Once the thief was weakened enough, the mind probe would finally work.

Then the true nightmare would begin.


	4. Labyrinth, Part 2

**Notes: Since these were supposed to be vignettes, I'm a little embarrassed at how long this one got. But it really could not have been shorter. Maybe I'll just have to call them parts or segments from now on.**

**Labyrinth, Part Two**

**Prompt: Infection**

There were several things Marik wondered if he might find when the doorbell rang that overcast winter day.

Yugi Muto and a distraught Ryou Bakura were not among them.

"Yugi?" he gasped as he opened the door of the Ishtars' home. "Bakura? What's wrong?" And he could not help thinking back to his feelings when he had woke up that morning. Ishizu had always been the intuitive one; even without the Millennium Tauk, she seemed to have a bit of a sixth sense. But today it had been Marik who had sensed something was wrong somewhere. He had not been able to find anything amiss when he had checked on his siblings and then on the news, so he had tried to dismiss it. This sight, however, made him certain that his premonition had been correct.

Bakura swallowed hard. "I'm afraid it's a bit of a long story," he said, his voice quiet.

Yugi nodded. "Can we come in?"

Marik stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Of course," he said, frowning as the duo stepped inside. He shut the door after them, then led them into the living room. "What is it?"

Bakura hesitated. Now that they were right here, he hated to tell Marik such a horrible truth---that Marik's sadistic Yami had not been destroyed. And even worse, that he was already back to his own torturing ways.

Yugi glanced at him, sensing and understanding his feelings. "Um . . . I know this is probably going to sound hard to believe, Marik," he said, looking back to the Egyptian boy, "but we heard from Atem today. . . ."

Marik's eyebrows shot up. "You what?!"

Bakura took courage. "He sent us messages from the afterlife," he said, "warning us of something terrible that's happening right now." His shoulders slumped. "The house was ransacked today. . . . I woke up laying on the floor. . . . And someone had left a horrid message telling me they have my Yami. . . ."

Marik stared at him. "Who on earth could take him?" he said in disbelief. He had heard from Yugi that the thief was back, and that Shadi had given him a Ring that enabled mortality, but beyond that Marik knew little of the situation. He and Yami Bakura, never having been on the greatest of terms despite their Battle City alliance, had not associated. Still, he knew that Yami Bakura would never allow himself to be abducted if he could help it.

Bakura shifted. ". . . When I was unconscious on the floor, I saw Atem's message," he said. "He showed me what's befallen my Yami . . . and who is responsible." He took a deep breath. This was, he felt, something he needed to tell. He could not have Yugi do it for him.

He looked Marik in the eyes. "It was your Yami," he said then.

Marik went sheet-white. "What?!" he cried. "That's impossible. I renounced him!"

"He stayed alive in the shadows," Yugi said, feeling terrible to bring this news. "When my Yami destroyed Zorc, the personification of the darkness in people's hearts, he used light. But since your Yami was destroyed in a Shadow Game and sent into the darkness, he survived. At least . . . that's how I understood it from Atem. . . ."

"So he would have been vanquished for good if I had used light instead of the Shadow Game he created," Marik muttered, running a a hand through his hair. For the first time in years, thanks to Rishid, he had held the light of hope during that duel. He had thought that, and his own will and determination, would be enough to rid them all of the demon. This revelation was horrifying.

"You're sure it was really from Atem?" he said now, the desperate urgency creeping into his voice.

Yugi nodded. "It was, Marik," he said. "I'm sorry. . . ."

"No," Marik returned, "I'm sorry for creating that devil in the first place." He began to pace the room. No wonder he had felt those ill sensations this morning. This was far worse than he could have ever dreamed. He was still not sure he fully grasped the truth of this news. Maybe he was just too numb, wanting and praying frantically for there to have been some mistake.

. . . Or had he always known, deep down, that his dark side was not gone? Had he tried to shove that knowledge into some far-off corner of his heart and pretend it was not real? Maybe he had tried to make himself believe he was paranoid.

He stopped pacing, looking to Bakura. "And he took your Yami?" he said.

Bakura gave a sad nod. "Yes. . . ."

Marik's hands went to his hips. "Why?"

"I don't know!" Bakura exclaimed, feeling helpless. "Just to torture him, I suppose. In the vision I saw, he was being just horrible! He sicced a pack of bizarre monsters on Yami. They were . . ." He looked away, clamping a hand over his mouth. "They were eating him alive," he whispered.

Marik stared at him. "Then how is there any chance of saving him?!" he cried.

"I have to cling to the hope that it was just an illusion," Bakura said quietly. "Atem told Yugi that there was still hope, and that what I had seen was what Yami was currently experiencing . . . but he didn't say whether it was literally happening or only in Yami's mind."

Yugi nodded his agreement. "We came here hoping you might have some idea of where your Yami might take him," he said.

Marik frowned. "I'll have to think about it," he said. "Could you see what kind of place they were in?" He looked back to Bakura, who paused.

"It looked like some kind of cave," the British boy said. "There were stalactites and stalagmites, and everything was rocky and dark. . . ." He shook his head. "I don't even know if it was around here at all! It didn't look familiar to me, but then, I don't go exploring too much. . . ."

Marik sighed. "Let's go into the study and look at some maps," he said. "We'll find all the caves in this area and check them. And if that fails . . . well, we'll figure that out if it happens."

Somehow he doubted that finding Yami Bakura would be as simple as locating a cave on a map. But for the moment, it was all he could think to do.

"Marik?"

They all started and looked up as Ishizu entered the room, puzzled by the guests and the somber mood.

Marik gazed at his sister, who had never given up in her quest to save him from the dark and return him to the light. He hated to tell her what he had just been told, but she needed to know. And maybe she would have an idea for what they could do about finding Yami Bakura.

"Sister . . ." His shoulders rose and fell. "Yugi and Bakura have brought bad news."

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "What is wrong, my brother?" she asked in concern.

"My Yami's back," Marik said in discouragement. "He survived in the darkness. Now he's abducted Bakura's Yami."

Ishizu gasped. "Marik!" Suddenly she was reeling. This was a horrible nightmare. She could see in her brother's eyes the despair and hopelessness he now felt over this revelation. She also saw the fear and anguish in Bakura's eyes and the worry in Yugi's.

"I can't believe he branched off into his own person!" Marik exclaimed in horror as he ran his hands into his hair. "He always threatened that he could, and would, but . . ."

Ishizu understood; Marik blamed himself for what had happened, since he had created Yami Marik to begin with. What had started out as a split personality, the darkest part of Marik's soul invented to protect him from the crushing pain and sorrow, was now a completely separate entity. Marik could no longer have any control over him . . . or could he?

"We will find a way to set things right," she said, laying a hand on Marik's shoulder. "We will defeat him for good and rescue his captive."

"Of course we will!" Yugi said, with more confidence than he felt. He only hoped two things.

First, that Ishizu was right and they really could and would. And second . . .

. . . That Yami Bakura would be alive when they found him.

****

The more Yami Bakura wandered the labyrinth maze, the more he was convinced that there was no way out. Not that he had really believed such a thing as an exit existed for him. In addition to being trapped deep within Yami Marik's nightmare world, the Infinity Ring simply would not behave. He had hoped that if he went off by himself again, he could determine how to harness enough of its power that he could free himself from this nightmare. But it was not working, and the further he fell into this snare, the more he was becoming infuriated.

It never failed---down every path, he found Bakura having met some tragic fate. In one, he had been hanged. In another, he had been pinned to the wall by knives impaled through his poor body. In a third, he was laying dead from Slifer's assault, his arm badly bleeding---the fate he would have suffered had the Pharaoh had been forced to attack without Yami Bakura's intervention.

That one, perhaps, disturbed him most of all. His heart hammered in his chest.

At last he stopped and stood in the tunnel, his fists clenched as he screamed up at the cruel game master. "I know these are illusions!" he yelled. "What kind of fool do you take me for?!"

And the delighted, heartless laughter came back to him. "You're so busy becoming enraged by my little performances that you're not even aware of what's really happening to you, are you?" Yami Marik exclaimed.

Yami Bakura clapped a hand over his heart. He had noticed it hurting before, actually, but his anger had been such that he had not even fully paid attention until now, as the pain increased. What kind of fool _was_ he, anyway? This should have been a dead giveaway that things were even more wrong than he had thought.

"What's happening to me?!" he demanded.

"You know, you're looking pretty good for someone who's three millennia old," Yami Marik answered, the sneer obvious in his voice. "You don't look a day over twenty-one."

"And you don't look a day over sixteen, but you're actually six years old," Yami Bakura retorted. "Which isn't a compliment, by the way."

The only response was another burst of mad cackling. "Even though you know what you're seeing isn't real, your very heart and soul are being torn asunder," Yami Marik said. "The sheer pressure from seeing so many horrible sights is taking its toll on you. And even though this result can happen at any age, it's more common with the older set. You're about as old as they come."

". . . A heart attack?" Yami Bakura gasped. No, that was not possible. He was too strong-willed. And as far as he knew, his heart was healthy---a heart that would be found in an average twenty-one-year-old's body.

"A stress and trauma-induced heart attack," Yami Marik said.

Yami Bakura clenched his teeth. "It's another illusion," he said. "You can't really put such a thing on me."

"It doesn't feel like an illusion, does it?" Yami Marik said. "And it certainly won't once it reaches its peak. The angrier you become, the faster you bring it on."

"Be silent!" Yami Bakura snapped. He made his way towards the head of the passageway. He would go back to the main room and confront the demon now. Even without being able to unlock any more of the Infinity Ring's secrets, he would fight using the knowledge that he did have.

But the tunnel did not end. The beam of light was always far in the distance, teasing and tantalizing him. Even though he knew he was moving forward, it was as though his very steps were lengthening the path.

"Stop this at once!" he growled in anger.

This time Yami Marik would not answer him. The only sound he could hear was his footsteps on the jagged floor . . . and a faint call somewhere in the distance. . . .

"Bakura?" he muttered to himself. No, he could not bear seeing the boy meet any more grisly fates. Now that he had just hoped he was escaping the sights altogether, the thought of more was too much.

_"Mercy is for the weak, like you,"_ he heard Yami Marik cackle in his mind. Words spoken in a long-distant past, from their original clash. It was an odd thing to say. The surface meaning was clear enough, but was there another? Had the devil actually been hinting at knowing the truth of Yami Bakura's feelings for Bakura---that he had shown the boy mercy and cared for him? Something that Yami Bakura himself had not been willing to accept back then?

"Bah! I did go soft," he muttered. "I am weak. I never had any use for compassion before." And if it was not for his protective nature towards Bakura, Yami Marik would not be able to use these illusions on him. They would mean nothing.

_"To care about someone isn't weakness, Yami."_ Bakura's voice came now, the memory of a conversation they had shared shortly after the incident with the serial killer the White Death. The thief paused, replaying the next words in his mind.

_"To care about someone is one of the most courageous things you can do, especially if you've suffered pain from caring in the past. But . . . you can't ever have caring without the pain. I don't know . . . maybe without the pain . . . you'd never know how much you care."_

Yami Bakura grunted. Optimistic boy. He did not know that he agreed, nor did he know how Bakura could say such a thing after the losses he had suffered. And as far as caring being courageous, well . . . he did think Bakura was either brave or foolish for caring about him.

And as for himself, well . . . he just thought he was a fool. After his entire village had been destroyed, his anguish and heartbreak had been indescribable. His grief had fueled his anger and hatred, but somewhere after Zorc's leeching had begun, his sorrow had been eclipsed by a driving madness. He had just craved power then, and that had remained the case until his final defeat, when Zorc's spirit had forcefully been pulled from his.

He had been a fool back then, as well. But now he was relatively sane again, struggling to pick up the pieces of a broken life. Would he ever succeed?

Well, it was unlikely that he would do so down here.

His eyes narrowed. He would not let Yami Marik destroy what he was trying to build.

In disgust he looked from the still-lengthening tunnel to the Infinity Ring. "You've dispelled his powers before," he said. "Do it again. Remove this illusion!"

The object pulsed. The long corridor vanished, leaving him standing right where he had begun.

He growled. "You had better have fixed the problem," he said as he started again to walk.

This time he began to draw closer to the light. And the weak voice was still calling, pleading to be heard.

"Yami? Where are you, Yami?"

He clenched a fist. It was not real. This time he knew it was not and he would not allow himself to be taken in by the mind trick.

There was silence now, followed by labored breathing. He moved closer to the entrance, trying to force himself to not walk faster, to not hasten to find out what was wrong with the boy this time. It was all in his head.

. . . But Yami Marik had made several allusions to the possibility that he would harm Bakura for real. What if he really had Bakura here somewhere? What if he would torture Yami Bakura with so many illusions that Yami Bakura would not believe it when he encountered the real Bakura, and then Yami Marik would use it to his advantage and do damage that could never be healed?

He clenched his teeth behind closed lips. And he walked a bit faster.

"Yami? Is that you?"

He came to the doorway at last, staring into the main room. Bakura was chained to the same wall where he himself had been. The shackles seemed to be the only thing holding the teen's battered and beaten body upright. His head was to the side, his glassy eyes gazing towards the tunnel. When he managed to focus on Yami Bakura, a weak smile came over his features.

"Yami, I've found you!" he exclaimed.

"It looks more like I've found you," Yami Bakura growled, still cautious and hesitant to accept this as real. He stepped out and made his way to the boy, concern and anger flashing through his lavender eyes. Bakura's clothes were ripped and torn, his flesh bruised and cut and bleeding. His left eye was almost completely closed and watering.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I was trying to rescue you, Yami, but . . . he got to me first. . . ." He looked away. "I'm useless!"

"Now don't start that!" Yami Bakura snapped. Well, it certainly seemed like the real Bakura---but so had that first one, that Yami Marik had stabbed. He reached out, trying to undo the manacles.

Bakura gave him a weary smile. "Are you well, Yami?" he asked.

"In Yami Marik's domain?" Yami Bakura grumbled. The shackles seemed to be too tightly affixed to the wall. And they looked a lot like the manacles on the Holding Arms card. Perhaps if he tried again with the Ring. . . .

It glowed as he concentrated. Miraculously, the bonds responded and loosened. Bakura slipped free, his legs wobbling. Yami Bakura caught hold of the trembling body, gathering his young friend into his arms.

"We need to get out of here, now," he said.

Bakura rested his head against the strong shoulder. "I could tell you how I got in, Yami," he mumbled.

"Do it then," Yami Bakura said. "And then rest."

Bakura blinked his good eye, fighting for concentration and coherence. "It was the . . . second path on the right," he mumbled. "It leads out. . . . But I don't see how you'll travel it with me, Yami. . . . It's so narrow and steep. . . ."

"I'm not leaving you here, so hush," Yami Bakura growled.

He made his way to the passageway in question, trying to ignore the obviously erratic nature of Bakura's breathing. But he could not help looking down at the boy as he walked. It looked like some of his ribs had been damaged. What if one of them had pierced a lung? He had to hurry, not worrying about whether this was real or not. It could be time Bakura would not have, if he was truly here.

"Yami?"

He held the teen more firmly. "What." They were coming to the end of the tunnel now, and he could see that Bakura was right. The next chamber featured sharp drop-offs and narrow ridges. He started to step into that room.

"Please keep living," Bakura whispered. "I want you to fight in that battle and be granted your second chance, so you won't need the Infinity Ring any more to stay mortal."

Yami Bakura grunted. "I have no intention of not continuing to live," he said.

"And please tell Father . . ." Bakura moaned, burrowing against Yami Bakura's shoulder.

"Tell him yourself!" Yami Bakura snapped, suddenly realizing where this was going. He moved onto the ledge, inching as carefully as he could.

"I'm sorry, Yami," Bakura said sadly. "I'm so sorry. . . ." He reached with a shaking hand, clutching Yami Bakura's arm.

Yami Bakura growled, picking up his pace. "You'll have something to be sorry about, alright," he said. "If you try dying, I'll make certain to force the Pharaoh to send you back."

Bakura smiled again. "You'd talk to him, just for me?" he said.

"Of course I would," Yami Bakura retorted.

Bakura fell silent, save for his increasingly-pained breathing. But after an agonizing moment, it slowed and stopped. His poor body went limp, sinking further against the thief.

Yami Bakura stiffened. "Bakura!" he cried, looking down at the other. He knew what he would find, and yet he was dreading, praying it would not be so. Bakura was lifeless, his skin pale and drawn. He looked so pained and sad as he lay in Yami Bakura's arms. . . .

Yami Bakura did not even stop to think about it. He set the still form on the floor, then bent over him, working in desperation to restore breath and life. But no matter how he tried, Bakura did not rally. Yami Bakura leaned back, staring at the battered body with shattered, disbelieving eyes. Bakura had died in his arms. He had tried to save the boy, but he had failed.

A footfall behind him was followed by a dark chuckle. And suddenly he was on his feet, fury written all across his face. He had had enough. Whether or not the real Bakura had just died, Yami Marik was going to pay for his sickening, uncaring actions. A cry of hatred and outrage tore from his lips as he lunged.

Yami Marik was stunned. With no chance to defend himself on such short notice, he was dragged to the floor as Yami Bakura pulled him down. Then they were rolling and twisting on the floor, locked in mortal combat. As Yami Bakura gained the upper hand and pinned Yami Marik to the ground, his fists went flying. He struck Yami Marik once, then twice, his eyes wild and filled with rage.

Yami Marik burst into raucous laughter as the blows caught him in the face. "Yes!" he cried, flinging his hands onto Yami Bakura's shoulders and pushing him back. "Hate me. Pour out all of your anger and fury!" He kicked the other man in the stomach, sending him crashing into the wall. Then he leaped up, lunging to grab Yami Bakura by the throat. "It makes me feel good. So does this." His fingers curled around the firm neck.

Yami Bakura took hold of Yami Marik's wrist with one hand while trying to pry the insistent fingers away with the other. "Then I'll gladly give you every bit of it," he hissed. Coughing and gasping, he forced the hand back, then lashed out and struck Yami Marik once more in the face.

Yami Marik fell back, spitting out blood from his newly-split lip. Then he grinned wildly, his eyes popping, the veins bursting forth. "This might be the most fun I've had so far," he exclaimed.

Yami Bakura snarled. He was only fueling the wretch's desires by fighting, but he did not want to stop. He wanted to defeat Yami Marik once and for all and then flee this nightmare.

He got up, charging to strike again. But as he did, a horrific pain ripped through his chest. He gasped, stumbling as he clutched at his heart. Yami Marik had threatened that he would suffer a heart attack if he grew angry enough. Was that what was happening? Was it real and not an illusion?

The devil stood too, his eyes growing even more wild and filled with delight. The last thing Yami Bakura saw as he collapsed was a grotesquely-twisted sneer.

Yami Marik burst out laughing as the thief slammed onto the hard ground. Then he bent down, straddling his captive. "While I enjoy seeing you so helpless, I need you awake for this," he said. Placing his hand on Yami Bakura's forehead, he began the mind probe for the third time. This time it would work. He was sure of it; Yami Bakura was too weakened to resist.

Lavender eyes snapped open. The combination of the pain from his chest and that of both physical and mental agony throughout his head was too much.

His haunting scream echoed throughout the lonely cave.


	5. Kul Elna

**Notes: Again I visit the idea of Yami Bakura having had a younger sister. The idea was inspired by a heart-wrenching Japanese fanart.**

**Kul Elna**

**Prompt: Fear**

Bakura gasped, his eyes widening in surprise as pain tore through his chest and head. One hand flew to his heart while he clutched at his forehead with the other.

Marik turned to look at him in concern. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Bakura shut his eyes against the agony as he shuddered. "I . . . I don't know," he choked out. "I . . . I'm afraid it may be Yami. . . ."

Marik stiffened. They were just coming out of the last possible cave in the immediate area. Hours of searching had resulted in nothing helpful at all, and both they and the others were exhausted and worried. But this was not a twist Marik had expected to see. Was Bakura actually channeling his Yami's pain?!

Tears of both pain and sorrow slipped from Bakura's eyes. "This is horrible," he cried. "If Yami is really feeling this . . ."

Marik hesitated, then laid a hand on Bakura's shoulder. "We'll save him," he said.

"How?" Bakura asked in hopelessness.

". . . I don't know," Marik admitted. "But we'll find a way. Atem wouldn't have shown those things to you if all was lost." Inwardly he had to pray he was speaking the truth. What if their time had run out? The despair was threatening to overwhelm him, too---yet he knew he could not let it.

Bakura took a deep breath. "I know," he said. "I can't give up on Yami. . . . Not when he needs me so badly." He looked to the Egyptian. "But where are we going to look now?"

Marik shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I really don't."

Above them, a February snow began to fall.

****

_The laughter was all around him, growing louder and more cruel with every closely-guarded memory that was uncovered. The modern world, the past . . . all of it was being laid bare before Yami Marik's wicked eyes. Everything that had helped to make him who he was, was now clear. He had already felt plenty vulnerable during this madness; now it was as though even the scant apparel he was wearing had been stripped away and he was sprawled naked before his enemy._

_"I see now," Yami Marik purred. "Oh, this is very interesting. So your village provided the ninety-nine living sacrifices necessary to bring the Millennium Items into being. I guess it's no wonder that you believed they all belonged to you. After all, your family's very flesh and bones were used to make them!" And he burst into hysterical cackles again._

_His victim gritted his teeth. He wanted to speak, to curse the demon for invading his mind, but his voice would not come. Then the pain was being thrust upon him, sending him out of this place and time and into another, one that he always visited in his dreams and nightmares. . . ._

"Bakura! Wake up, silly!"

Small hands shook him on the back, near his shoulder blades. He grunted, for a moment burrowing deeper into the pillow. But as the hands remained insistent, and as the voice sank into his consciousness, he started awake. He whirled to look, his heart racing, his skin pale. It could not be. . . .

A child of around four clapped her hands in delight. "There!" she exclaimed. "I knew I could get you to wake up. You were sleeping too long again, Bakura. I woke up from my nap long ago."

He could only stare at her. "Amunet," he gasped. His younger sister, lost to him for so many millennia. . . .

"Come on!" she said with a little twirl. "Dinner's ready!"

"Dinner?" He frowned. Something was so eerie about this encounter---besides the obvious. It was too familiar.

She grabbed his hand. "You act so funny when you wake up," she said. "Let's go!"

He pushed himself off the bed, dazed. She did not notice that he was grown while she was still small. As far as she was concerned, he was her six-year-old brother. And they were in their old home, back in Kul Elna. . . .

He froze. Kul Elna. . . . He was back there somehow. And the reason why this felt so familiar . . . it was the night he replayed over and over in his memories. The last night. . . .

"Bakura, what's wrong?"

He started, looking down at his sister. She was frowning, staring at him with confused eyes. But he hesitated, debating within himself. For him to be back here, was there any chance he could prevent the massacre from happening?

He bent down to be at her eye-level. "Amunet . . . have you noticed anything strange tonight?" he asked.

"Besides the way you're acting?" she said. "Nope."

Suddenly overcome, he drew her into his arms. "Something terrible is going to happen," he said. "Something I was never able to stop. . . ."

Perplexed, she hugged back. ". . . If you were never able to stop it, then won't it still happen now?" she said then, as if granted a window of wisdom to what he meant.

"It shouldn't!" he said with vehemence. "It never should have happened. I . . . we . . . we were so young. . . ."

She looked up at him, placing her hands on either side of his face. "You couldn't have stopped it, big brother," she said softly. "You were so young, just like you said."

He stared at her. But even as he stared, the floor began to quake under his feet. He leaped up, clutching her tightly. "They're coming!" he cried. "Mother, Father! We have to get out of here! The soldiers are coming!"

The screams were already audible from outside. People were running, trying to flee for their lives---people he knew and had grown up with. Neighbors, friends. . . . The family across from their house. The newly-married couple that lived further up the road. Amon, the same age as he had been back then. . . . They were being herded by the soldiers to an underground chamber, the location where they would be sacrificed alive for the ceremony.

Amunet threw her arms around his neck. "What's happening, Bakura?!" she cried. "I'm scared!"

"Don't be," he returned. "Things won't happen the same way this time. I'm going to get you out of here!"

But the door of their home was already being flung open. Soldiers with spears were storming in, ready to take every occupant to join the others.

He turned and ran out the back way, holding his sister close. Their parents were nowhere to be seen. Had they already been captured? Had they escaped and were waiting somewhere outside for the others to join them? They would never abandon their children. They were thieves, but that did not mean they did not love their family.

His blood ran cold at the sound of a piercing scream in the direction of the house. "Mother!" he cried. Amunet looked up in alarm.

Now he was torn. What was he going to do?! If he took Amunet to find their mother, she might be caught. But if he kept running, their mother would be the soldiers' prisoner.

He gritted his teeth. Maybe he could get Amunet to safety and then go back for their mother. And where was their father?

Amunet clutched him as he fled down the streets ominously lit by torches. "What are you doing, Bakura?!" she screamed. "You can't leave Mother!"

"I'm going back for her!" he replied, looking over at a house with the door flapping in the wind. It had already been emptied of its occupants. He ran inside, his eyes searching for a place to hide the child. Then he spotted a woven chest. Balancing her with one arm, he lifted the lid. "Wait here," he ordered.

She stared at him, terrified. "Don't leave me here!" she begged, grabbing his arms even as she was lowered into the container.

"I won't be long," he said. "Don't make a sound! They'll leave you alone if you're quiet."

Tears filled her eyes. "Promise?"

He nodded. "I promise. Now, get down!" he ordered, reaching for the lid.

She lay down in the bottom of the chest. "Be careful, big brother," she whispered.

He hesitated, but then lowered the lid and straightened. He had to hurry; their mother might already be on her way to the underground sanctuary. He ran out the door, back into the red night.

Villagers were running in every direction, desperate to escape the soldiers. Others turned and fought with them, outraged by the intrusion. The observer gritted his teeth. That was what he had wanted to do all those years ago. He would like to do it now. But he had to focus on finding his mother and father. He slipped among the small homes, back the way he had come.

But their house was in darkness now, whereas before it had still been lit. He clenched a fist. Was there any chance they were inside, searching for him and Amunet, and were just trying to make it look like no one was home? He went through the door, quickly going from room to room without success. They were gone.

He looked up, his eyes burning. He would go to the underground chamber and meet the soldiers there. He would force them to give up all of their captives before they could be sacrificed. But he would have to hurry.

He had replayed the path again and again in his memories. It did not take long to get to the horrible place. He ran down the stairs, his heart twisting to see the torches already burning. Was he too late? Were they already beginning the ceremony?!

A cloaked figure stepped out as he reached the bottom. _Ahkenaden?!_ "Thief King Bakura," he intoned. "We've been waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?!" the thief repeated in disbelief.

"Of course," the cloaked man replied. "We can't start the ceremony without you."

Lavender eyes widened. He stared around the enemy at the shadowy figures beyond. The soldiers were holding their spears horizontally in front of the villagers, preventing them from fighting back or trying to escape. But then a woman's voice cried out.

"No, Bakura! Go back!"

He stiffened. "Mother?!" he gasped. He ran forward, but was suddenly faced with a spear.

"You're not allowed to interfere," the soldier growled.

He growled too. "I will do as I please!" he retorted, grabbing hold of the weapon. "This time you will not sacrifice anyone!"

The soldier cursed him and sneered. As he lunged, aiming to throw the thief off-guard, the villagers suddenly burst into a surprise assault on the other soldiers.

Now all Hell was breaking loose. The war raged as the soldiers fought to throw the thieves into the pit of molten gold. Yami Bakura's blood ran cold as the first person fell in, screaming in terror. This was just as he had remembered it---the fight, the failed escape, the screams of terror. . . . History was carrying on without him. He might as well still be the child hiding behind the wall, for all the good he was doing.

But he was not going to give up. He grabbed the spear of a fallen soldier, stabbing it into first one, then another. While the army was distracted, two of the children broke free, running for the stairs. Yami Bakura looked over, his heart racing. Would they make it out? Yes, no one was stopping them! They were tearing up the stairs and into the night, sobbing over the tragedy they had just been witnessing. But they were free. At least something was going better than it had in real-life.

A familiar cry brought his attention back to the abyss. Then he went ashen. "Mother!" he screamed. She had already been pushed in while he had been occupied watching the children's escape. Now he dove forward, grabbing in desperation for her hands. Instead he was tackled and dragged back as he struggled against the soldiers. "Let go of me!" he yelled as he clawed and kicked---but to no avail.

Others were thrown in while he was held in place, unable to even try to save any of them. Neighbors, friends. . . . "Amon!" he cried. Family. . . . "Father!"

Then came the sounds of another scuffle and he looked towards the stairs. Had the children been found and re-captured? No---the truth was even worse.

The soldier laughed as he arrived at the bottom, gripping a wrist in each hand. In his right he held Amunet. In his left he clutched an alarmed and confused British boy. "These will make up for the ones we lost," he sneered. He thrust them forward, where some of his comrades flanked the remainder of the path to the pit.

Yami Bakura stared, the rest of his world shattering. "Amunet!" he burst out. "Bakura?!"

Amunet was sobbing. "You said they wouldn't come look in there, big brother," she said. "You said they wouldn't!"

Yami Bakura's heart was pierced. With a new burst of adrenaline and anger, he fought against the guards restraining him. He knocked one back dangerously close to the pit, while another went flying and crashing into a third. Then he was running, frantic to get to them---but it was too late.

The soldier glared as he dragged the child forward. "So, the girl's name is Amunet?" he said. "The child of thieves was named for a goddess?" His eyes flashed. "This is sacrilege!"

"And you're so pious and perfect," Yami Bakura spat. "Amunet is four years old. And you'll still condemn her?!"

"This entire village is evil," Ahkenaden said. "You deserve to pay for your crimes!"

Amunet screamed as she was pushed into the abyss. Bakura screamed too, absolutely horrified. Yami Bakura could only stop and stare, his eyes wide as he trembled. At the sound of the splash, as her terrified and pained screams mixed with the others who were being boiled alive in the liquid gold, Yami Bakura flinched, his expression frozen.

Ahkenaden sneered at his heart-broken, uncomprehending visage. "You see? This is pointless," he said. "I think we've all had enough of your attempts at delaying things." He took out his sword, slicing at Yami Bakura. The thief fell back, blood running from a slash across the right side of his chest.

"Yami!" Bakura cried.

But while he was distracted, the soldier pushed him into the pit too. The boy screamed, fighting to stay atop the deadly substance. But he could not. His hand clawed for the edge as he went under. Then the hand, too, disappeared.

Yami Bakura's heart thumped in his chest. That was the last. That was ninety-nine.

An unearthly rumbling shook the underground structure. Soldiers cried out, suddenly fearful as they lost their balance. Only Yami Bakura and Ahkenaden remained standing, watching as the molten gold sank into the depths of the earth. Ahkenaden leaned forward, the intensity obvious in his stance. This was it---now their shadow alchemy would bring about the means to save Egypt.

The rumbling continued as the Millennium Tablet rose into view. The flickering glow from the torches reflected off the light of the seven Millennium Items---the Items that had been forged with the very bodies of the ninety-nine sacrifices. Yami Bakura continued to stare in horror, his heart racing.

Ahkenaden approached the wretched stone, then reached down and lifted up one of the Items. He studied it, his eyes narrowed in thoughtfulness. Then he turned, throwing the Item at Yami Bakura. "Here!" he cackled. "Wear your family and friends around your neck!"

Yami Bakura flinched as the Millennium Ring clattered to the floor in front of him. Ahkenaden's voice had changed. Now he sounded like Yami Marik, laughing, laughing, finding all of this hilarious.

Yami Bakura sank to his knees, still clutching the slash in his chest as he trembled, staring at the Ring.

"Amunet," he whispered. "Bakura. . . ."

They were gone. The Millennium Items were all that was left of them and the rest of Kul Elna.


	6. Fighting Spirit

**Notes: Many thanks to Lisa for her help with this chapter, and thanks to Kaze, Crystal Rose, and anyone else who has been helping and giving ideas and suggestions. Also, I don't entirely know why P. Seto was shown waiting for Atem in the afterlife, since throughout the show and manga, it was insisted that Seto Kaiba had been P. Seto. But since P. Seto was shown in the afterlife, I'm depicting him here as Kaiba's ancestor. And if anyone wants to read in detail what Bakura's talking about in the last scene, I refer you to **_**White is in the Winter Night**_**.**

**Fighting Spirit**

**Prompt: Trigger**

_The laughter was all around him, echoing up and down the chamber as he slowly returned from the horrors of Kul Elna. He trembled, stiffening at the wretched sound. It was Ahkenaden's . . . no, Yami Marik's . . . laughter. A foot pressed down on his back without warning, sending him sprawling to the floor._

_"So that was a trip down your memory lane, eh?" Yami Marik's voice cackled. "I always wondered what it would have been like to have been at the legendary Kul Elna massacre. I guess that's as close as I'll ever get to it. So much destruction, so much pain, so many cries of terror. . . ." He leaned over the top of the thief's head, his spikes hanging upsidedown as the cruel grin split his features. "Yes! That's what I love to see and hear. My only regret is that I wasn't there to personally throw your family into the pit!" He pushed on Yami Bakura's shoulder blades._

_Even he was not expecting the extent of the devastated man's reaction. An inhuman cry tore from Yami Bakura's throat. He rose up, an equally inhuman strength powering his arms as he threw Yami Marik from him to crash into a nearby stalagmite. His eyes wild, he charged at the devil, dragging him to the floor once again. They wrestled, Yami Marik clawing at and twisting Yami Bakura's arms and wrists. He slammed the right hand onto the ground, then the left._

_"Now I have you right where I want you---again!" he exclaimed, his own eyes bloodshot in his insanity. "The great Thief King, helpless before me!"_

_Yami Bakura glowered up at him, his eyes filled with hatred. "I'll kill you!" he swore. "By every god there is, I'll kill you!" He fought to rise, but then was forced back down as Yami Marik kneed him in the stomach._

_"Good!" the blond Egyptian cried. "Try it!"_

_Yami Bakura roared, tearing his hands free. He grabbed his captor, pulling him to the floor as the mad struggle began once more._

_Yami Marik fought for the upper hand, kneeing him again and pressing down unbearably. Then he forced Yami Bakura's head back, his hand clenched around the older man's jaw. Yami Bakura clawed at it, but his hands were slapped away instead. Then Yami Marik moved to backhand him across the face. Instead a sharp pain stabbed into his hand. With a cry of his own he jerked back, staring at the reddening flesh in disbelief. Teeth marks were clearly visible on the side of his hand, stretching to the back and on the edge of the palm._

_Yami Bakura kicked him away and got to his feet, seething in rage. But his opponent jumped up just as quickly, a psychotic grin stretching across his face._

_"You really are a wild animal!" he declared._

_"And you are my prey!" Yami Bakura announced. He lunged again, snatching and twisting Yami Marik's arm and then sending the sadist flying over his shoulder to crash on the ground behind him. Before Yami Marik could recover, Yami Bakura ran to him and dropped down, his eyes wild as he began to pound the demon with his fists. Bones cracked and fractured as he attacked in all his fury. He was not only killing Yami Marik; he was killing Ahkenaden. He was killing all of the soldiers who had massacred his village for the Millennium Items. He was releasing pent-up hatred from millennia past, as well as the new rage that had been building in his heart over the last months and days._

_At last he fell back, breathing heavily. He stared at the broken body on the ground, searching for some sign of life. Was it over? Was Yami Marik dead?_

_Of course not; it would never be so easy to kill him. . . ._

_But the Infinity Ring would not respond to him and finish the wretch. Why? Surely it did not think he had done something wrong just now. . . ._

_A hand shot up, pressing against his forehead. He stiffened, his eyes widening._

_Yami Marik sneered. "Your hatred makes me strong," he said, as his damaged bones seemed to set themselves back in place. "Ironic, isn't it? The more you try to kill me, the more I have the energy to torment you! The way you are now, you will never defeat me." He sat up, forcing a wave of what felt like electricity through Yami Bakura's skull. "And since you can only feel hatred, this will go on indefinitely!"_

_Yami Bakura screamed, clawing at the hand in desperation. But he could not remove it. Now the pain was starting all over again. His legs gave out, sending him crashing to his knees._

_There were hoofbeats in the distance. . . . The soldiers were coming again. . . . He was going to see it all over again. . . ._

"No," he moaned. "No. . . ."

_Somewhere in the background, Amunet screamed. Bakura screamed. . . ._

_Zorc raked his claws through Yami Bakura's soul. . . ._

_Time mixed with fact and fiction, repeating in an endless, heartwrenching loop._

_An indeterminable period later, Yami Bakura sank out of awareness of all of it._

****

"Why do you waste your time worrying over that thief?"

Pharaoh Atem started and looked up from the divine pool in the afterlife that had been showing Yami Bakura's fate. He turned to face the speaker---his high priest, successor, and cousin, Seto. "You know he's important," he said. "That wasn't our decision."

Seto crossed his arms. "I also know that isn't why you're worried," he said.

Atem sighed, glancing back to the pool. ". . . No, it isn't," he agreed.

Seto stepped closer, looking into the pool as well. "He grows more listless with each passing day," he noted. "His friends can't seem to find him."

"And we're forbidden from expressly revealing his location. We can only give hints." Atem clenched a fist. It was not fair! He felt so helpless in this situation, just as Bakura and Yugi and the others surely did. It was times like these when he did not feel at rest at all, and though he was happy to once again be with the family and friends of his mortal life, he wished he could also be in Domino City with his other friends and to help when they needed it.

And while all of them were worrying and those on Earth were searching, Yami Marik was continuing his cruel behavior. Almost a week and a half had passed now, with Yami Bakura's mental resolve and his defiance crumbling the longer the torture continued. Ever since he had been weakened enough for the mind probe, he had gone downhill---though he had still experienced moments of anger and attitude up until the last two days. Since then, he had mostly lain on his side on the floor of the cave, blankly staring at nothing. Even the continuing illusions had little affect on him now. Yami Marik was growing bored, and that was a grave concern. When he had no more use for Yami Bakura, of course he would kill the tortured man. Unless he wanted to leave Yami Bakura in his shell-like state for Bakura to find, but that would be horrible too.

"I still find it hard to believe, that after he nearly brought about the destruction of Egypt---and consequentially, the world---he was the one chosen for this mission." Seto frowned into the pool.

"I don't really understand it all either," Atem said. "But Bakura believes he has a good heart. _They_ must believe it, too, to choose him. He has no idea what the responsibility given to him actually is."

"The man is still dangerous," Seto objected. "He's prone to fits of madness and hatred."

"A psychotic serial killer wanted to have Bakura murdered and stuffed. Now another psychotic madman is torturing him, threatening to kill Bakura, and continually making him relive his worst nightmares, memories, and fears." Atem shook his head. "Can you honestly say, Seto, that in his position, you wouldn't hate, too? I know I would."

Seto narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

"Anyway . . . the fact that he does care so deeply for Bakura shows that he has changed. Whatever else you think of him, you can't deny that." Atem gazed at the motionless form in the pool. The only indication that he was still alive was the rising and falling of his shoulder and chest as he breathed. Yami Marik, standing to the side, just observed with crossed arms and a heartless sneer---though he was tapping his fingers against his upper arm. An indication of his boredom.

". . . He certainly won't be much use to this battle like that," Seto said, deliberately side-stepping the topic.

Atem gave a grim nod. "I was talking to Shadi earlier," he said. "He said Bakura and the rest don't have much time left to find him. The rest of the week, at the most. Probably less."

Seto whirled, staring at the former Pharaoh in shock. _"Only that?!"_ he burst out. "How will they ever make it?! He already looks mostly gone."

But a vague smile played on Atem's lips. "I'm not giving up, on them or on him," he said. "They'll find him. And he'll hold out until they do."

Seto gave him a long, hard look. But at last he turned away. ". . . Sometimes I still don't understand your faith, especially in the face of such dire odds," he said. "Yet even so, I'll add my own, however small it might be in comparison."

Atem smiled more. "It's largely because of Yugi that I have this faith," he said. "He taught me so much. There was a time when I could scarcely believe, either. But he showed me that just about anything is possible."

Seto turned back. "You've definitely been different since you came here," he noted. "I would like to learn more."

"And I'll be happy to teach you," Atem said. "In the next few hours or days, we'll get a demonstration of it."

The scene in the pool changed, now showing what was happening at Bakura's house.

_I hope you're right, Cousin,_ Seto thought to himself. _Because it will take nothing short of a miracle to set this calamity right._

****

Bakura groaned, his propped-up hand slipping from under his cheek as he dozed again. He slumped back against the couch, allowing his head to drop to his shoulder. On the arm of the couch, a notebook and pencil slid off and into the crease between the arm and the cushion. He had given up on trying to do schoolwork long ago; concentration was impossible. He had been trying to make a list of all the places they had searched so far, but his body was giving out on him.

The firm knock at the door brought him back to attention. He stumbled up from the couch, nearly knocking a pillow to the floor in his haste to get the door answered. His eyes widened in hope and amazement as he threw it open to find Marik standing there, his expression deeply serious.

"Bakura, how are you?" the Egyptian greeted. His eyes narrowed as he studied the exhausted boy. Bakura's eyes were bloodshot, his hair a disheveled mess and his clothes rumpled. Worst of all, he looked like he had not eaten enough for a full meal in days.

Bakura shook his head. He was past the point of feeling like putting on airs, and anyway, he would probably not be believed, anyway. His shoulders sagged as he held the door open wider.

"I'm very bad, to be honest," he said quietly. "It gets worse every day. I've barely known what to do with myself at all. And I've hardly slept. When I do, I dream about Yami being tortured. I . . . I don't know if it's just dreams or if it's really what's happening." As Marik came in, Bakura shut the door after him. "I've been dreaming a lot about a small village in Egypt," he said.

Marik frowned. "A village?" he repeated.

Bakura nodded. "The place where we saw Atem off to the afterlife," he said. "Kul Elna, I believe. . . ."

Marik stiffened. "What have you been dreaming about it?" he asked, though he had a sinking feeling he knew.

Bakura trembled. "Everyone's killed," he choked out. "They . . . they're made into the Millennium Items. Oh, it's too horrible to even think about!" He looked away. "Yami told me about it, but . . . to actually see it. . . ." He covered his eyes with a shaking hand. "To know that _he_ saw it, and when he was just a child . . ."

At last he looked back to the concerned and disturbed Marik. "The first time I had this dream was after I felt that horrible pain in my head and my heart. Do you remember, Marik?"

Marik nodded. "I asked Ishizu about it at the time," he said. "She believed that you really were channeling what he was feeling."

Bakura ran a hand into his hair. "That's what I've been afraid of," he said.

Marik sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. ". . . Well, I have an idea," he said. "It's a long shot, but I don't know what else for us to try right now. We've been thinking my Yami is keeping your Yami someplace right under our noses. Maybe he is, in a sense. Maybe he's taken your Yami to Egypt, to a place that I would be familiar with."

Bakura gasped. "Where would that be?" he asked.

"There is a cave where the Rare Hunters stored weapons," Marik said. "My Yami would know about it, of course."

"Then we should go right now!" Bakura exclaimed.

"That's what I came here for, actually," Marik said, "to get you to pack a few things and come immediately. It takes hours to fly to Egypt. We shouldn't waste any time." He gestured to the window. "Ishizu and Rishid went to get Yugi and anyone else who's willing to help us. When they're back, you need to be ready to leave."

Bakura was already running for the stairs. "I'll pack right now!" he called over his shoulder. "And I'd better grab some things for Yami, too. . . ." He shuddered as images from his vision returned again. Yami Bakura had been stripped of everything, given only a scanty loincloth to wear. Yami Marik had done it purposely to further mock him.

Marik watched him dash up. "Can I help?" he asked.

Bakura nodded. "Get the large First Aid Kit out of the hall closet," he said. "I don't know if Yami will have any physical damage, but I won't take any chances."

"You shouldn't," Marik agreed. Ascending the stairs as well, he turned in the opposite direction to find the kit.

"And maybe some quilts or something," Bakura said as he hurried into his room.

****

It did not take long to pack the bare minimum of what they needed. By the time Bakura and Marik thundered down the stairs with a suitcase and a duffel bag, the van outside had returned. They hastened outside, Bakura barely remembering to lock the door behind them. But as they ran up to the van and the door was pushed open for them, the white-haired boy stopped and stared in surprise.

Not only had Yugi come with Marik's siblings, but Joey, Tristan, and Téa were there as well. Bakura looked to each one of his friends, his brown eyes wide. "Everyone . . ." he breathed.

Joey gave him a thumbs-up. "Come on, you didn't really think we'd let you run off to Egypt all by yourself, did ya?" he said. "Let you and Marik have all the fun?"

Bakura shook his head. "But . . . you don't even like my Yami," he said.

"We like you," Tristan spoke up.

"And Yugi told us that Atem wants you to save your Yami," Téa said. "So we're going to help." She shuddered. "No one deserves what Yami Marik must be doing to him."

Joey nodded. "So come on and get in here!" he said.

Bakura broke into a smile as he climbed into the van with the suitcase. Marik followed right behind with the duffel bag, pulling the door shut behind him as he entered.

Bakura was silent as they got settled and then set out on the drive to the airport. For the last weeks, though he had associated some with Yugi and the others, he had mostly been with Yami Bakura---and his father, while the man had lingered over the holidays. There were some things he had never told them about the terrifying encounter with the serial killer several months back. He had not quite known how to get into it. But somehow, now seemed like the right time to try. They had shown their faith in him, and their kindness, by coming out to join the search. Now Bakura wanted to show them that their faith was not unfounded.

". . . I suppose you've wondered why Yami has that scar on his stomach," he said.

Joey blinked. "Well, yeah . . . kinda," he said in surprise. "I guess. Since he didn't have it before and all."

"He was protecting me from that killer the White Death," Bakura said, his voice lowering.

All eyes looked to him. Even Rishid glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Are you serious?" Tristan said at last.

Bakura nodded. "He was distracted; he didn't see it." Now his voice was cracking. "I tried to save him, but I couldn't," he said. "Suddenly it was just flying through the air, right at him. . . ."

"What was?" Yugi said in concern.

"A spear," Bakura said. "The White Death must have used telekinesis on it. I grabbed for it, but it was no use. It . . ." He stared forlornly out the window, the painful memories reflected in his mind's eye. "It plunged right through him. . . ."

Téa gasped. "All because he was trying to save you from that psycho?!" she said.

Bakura nodded. "He died in my arms. . . ." His voice broke altogether.

Marik leaned forward, staring at him. "But . . . he was fine before my Yami took him," he said, stunned.

"It was a magic weapon," Bakura said. "It's called the Eon Spear. Horrid thing." He swallowed hard. "If you're impaled with it, it becomes stuck and can only be removed by the murderer or by someone other than the victim who has a magical item."

Joey blinked. "So then . . . how?"

Tristan frowned. "And what would it matter anyway, if he was already dead?"

Bakura flinched. "I didn't want to leave it stuck in him!" he exclaimed. He sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. "Then I discovered I could still save him. . . . Being a magic spear, I suppose it inflicted sort of an enchanted death. And it could be broken by someone who truly loved the victim pulling the spear out, at great personal risk to himself."

Tristan looked at him in disbelief. "So you're telling us that you . . ."

Bakura turned to him. "Yes!" he said. "I've come to care about him that much. He may be a long-distant ancestor, but he's more like a gruff older brother." He ran a hand into his hair. "And I know how that must sound, after everything he did to us with Zorc in the past. But I truly know three things. He was a victim too. He's changed from what he was. And he cares about me, just as I care for him."

Tristan backed down. From his expression, he was having a terrible time processing any of what Bakura had said. After everything Yami Bakura had done to them---and him---in the past, it was hard for him to comprehend how Bakura could feel so different about the thief. But of course, if he really had been trying to protect Bakura from that White Death nutcase, it had to mean something, Tristan supposed. And he owed Yami Bakura his gratitude for that.

Bakura just gave a weak smile. "Maybe someday you'll understand," he said.

"Maybe," Tristan said. But he kept his voice guarded.

"In any case, it means a great deal to me that you would come to help, particularly in light of your feelings," Bakura said.

Tristan sighed. "Yeah, well . . . what are friends for?"

Yugi just smiled. But he sighed too, as he saw Bakura's now-far-away and forlorn visage. The British boy had turned his attention to the window, gazing out at the wintery day while speaking unheard words under his breath.

Yugi bowed his head. He would join his prayers to Bakura's. They had to have faith that they really could save Yami Bakura.


	7. Dust to Dust

**Dust to Dust**

**Prompt: Ashes**

Somewhere in his mind, he thought he was still alive.

Was that just an illusion too? Everything else was. Sometimes he would think he was back home safe with Bakura, or even back in Kul Elna before the massacre, only for something horrible to happen again. Sometimes Bakura would come to save him from this nightmare, only for everything to get worse even when he was freed. He had seen Bakura die a thousand deaths, and he had died another thousand trying each time to rescue the boy. The final time, pain had ripped through his body that he had only felt one other time---when Zorc had been destroyed. He had been torn to shreds, but this time his damaged spirit had not been repaired. And so he lay where he was, trying to fight for his life and yet certain it was already over for him.

He did not even move when he was kicked in the ribs. Why bother? It was just another figment of his imagination. Sometimes he still thought he could hear Bakura, but he had wised up by now; it was just Yami Marik's tricks. There was no point even reacting.

Another kick, harsher, more frustrated. Still he did not move.

Fingers curled around his throat. "So," Yami Marik growled, "I've broken you at last, eh? I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that you lasted this long. Most people crack and break within a day." A sneer came into his voice. "You've definitely been my most interesting victim, kicking and screaming---even biting. But even you couldn't stand up to me. So now the question is, Do I kill you now? Or do I leave you here in this decrepit state for Bakura to find?"

Bakura . . . to find? Bakura was dead. So was he.

"I could break your neck right now," Yami Marik threatened. "Or I could make it much more slow and painful, carefully strangling you to death." His grip tightened. "Do you know what would be fun? I could shove a spear in your gut, right where the Eon Spear went through you before, and pin you to the floor with it."

It would not be real anyway. After a while he would realize he was not actually impaled to the floor.

But . . . why would he want even an illusion of Yami Marik to get the better of him? If he had even a spark of pride left, how could he allow it? He hated Yami Marik with all of his heart.

. . . And according to Yami Marik, that was how he was able to reign over Yami Bakura's fate. The very hate that fueled Yami Bakura and kept him going was also keeping Yami Marik alive.

Was there anything else that was anchoring him to this fight? Something must be, or he would surely be dead by now.

Maybe it _was_ his pride. He would never lay down and die anywhere, even in an illusion.

If he thought Bakura was alive, there would be that, too. Of course . . . Bakura had wanted the thief to keep living, no matter what happened to him. He had pleaded with Yami Bakura to live and fully earn his second chance, hadn't he? No, wait . . . that was only one of Yami Marik's illusions, too.

. . . Long before this nightmare had ever started, Bakura had pleaded with him not to give in to his hatred. He had even said that he knew hatred would not drive Yami Bakura now as it had in the past. Yami Bakura had not believed him, and back then he had not promised the boy anything. But with hatred being such a fueling force behind this madness, he had to somehow keep it at bay, didn't he?

If he did, could he defeat his enemy?

His fingers weakly curled on the smooth ground. Sometimes the floor felt like that instead of rough and jagged. It did not matter one way or the other; both ways were just Yami Marik's manipulation. There was no way of telling where they really were. There never had been, except that as far as Yami Bakura was concerned, Yami Marik was right---they were in Hell.

Yami Marik frowned as he noticed the fingers move. "So, you still have some life left?" he mused, still holding onto Yami Bakura's neck. "It won't take long to destroy that, too."

Yami Bakura's lips weakly parted. He had not spoken in he did not know how long, but now his voice was coming into his throat. "No," he rasped. "You won't have that chance."

Yami Marik sneered at him. "How sad," he said. "You actually have hope of beating me? In your condition?"

"Hope is for delusional fools," Yami Bakura growled, even as a spark of light came back into his previously-deadened eyes. "I don't even know if you're truly here. But I won't take the chance." He pushed himself half-off the floor. "I'm going to challenge you again. This time I'll win."

Yami Marik crossed his arms. "If we're going to fight, then this time it will be a mental battle," he grinned.

Yami Bakura sneered. "You're afraid of my teeth," he said.

"Not at all." Yami Marik reached out once more, this time grabbing hold of Yami Bakura's jaw. "Bite me again if you want to; I'll have the last laugh. You're much too weak for any conflict. I've been starving you for days. You've barely slept, except in unconsciousness. And your mind has been crumbling. I thought I'd completely broken you by now."

"You were wrong," Yami Bakura snarled. "And we'll have this mental battle. You will regret it."

Yami Marik stood up and stepped back, spreading his arms to control the darkness. It closed in all around them, trapping them in the Shadow Realm just as it had in their duel aboard the Battle Ship. Yami Marik looked at the thick fog in relish.

"Then," he grinned, "let the ultimate Death Game begin anew."

Yami Bakura struggled to his feet, his knees knocking and wobbling as he grabbed a nearby wall for balance. "What sort of sadistic conditions are in play this time?" he asked. "It wouldn't be very creative of you to fall back on your previous tricks of having us fade into the darkness."

Yami Marik's eyes widened and went bloodshot. "Oh, it will be different, I promise you that," he said. "But I don't want to spoil it. We'll just start the game and you can see for yourself. However, I will tell you this---since neither of us has a duel disk or deck, this Shadow Game will be played on the battlefield of our minds, just like you did with Pegasus."

Yami Bakura's eyes narrowed. Yami Marik now knew everything that had ever happened to him. The only secrets he could keep from this madman were his thoughts in the present.

But that was good enough.

"Bring it on," he said.

****

Marik ran a hand into his hair, the fury and helplessness and discouragement washing over him with a sore vengeance. Around him, the footsteps and the voices of his family and friends were the only sounds. That, and the dripping of minerals from somewhere in the dark cave.

"He's not here," he said aloud in his frustration to no one in particular. It had been uncomfortable to come back here, the sight of some of his crimes. He would not have done so if he had not thought Yami Bakura might be here. It had been their last hope, but it had fizzled. Now he did not know where to look at all. Maybe he had been way off-base by bringing them to Egypt. Maybe Yami Bakura was being held prisoner back in America, at a place they had not checked. There could be a cave in the Domino area that they did not know about.

"Marik!"

He started and looked up at the sound of Bakura's frantic voice. "What is it?" he called, stepping forward as the white-haired boy ran out of the shadows and over to him.

The other teen's flesh was as pale as his hair. "Marik, come see this!" he cried, pointing back the way he had come.

Marik's eyes narrowed. "He isn't here after all, is he?" he said as he followed Bakura back along the stalagmite-bordered path.

"No," Bakura said, "but your Yami was!"

Marik stared at him in confusion. But as they came to a halt deep in the corridor, Bakura beamed his flashlight on a grisly sight on the wall. Marik froze, his eyes widening. Written in a deep red was a grim message addressed to him.

_Are you still afraid of the dark, Marik?_

_Can you descend into the bowels of the earth_

_to rescue a pathetic, starving thief who won't_

_even know or care that you're there anyway?_

_Can you take little Ryou Bakura to such a place?_

_You know it very well---Hell on Earth._

Now Marik went sheet-white. "No," he gasped. "No, it's not possible. How could it be?!"

Bakura stared at him. "What is it?!" he exclaimed. "Do you know what it means, Marik?!"

Instead of answering, Marik turned to face him and grabbed hold of his shoulders. "Didn't you say you saw your Yami in a cave?!" he said.

Bakura stared, stunned by his urgency. "Well . . . yes," he said. "At least, it looked like that to me. But there were all those horrible beasts that must have not truly been there. . . ."

Marik released him, glaring hatefully at the message. "What if he wasn't really in a cave?" he said. "What if that's only how it looked to him, the same as how he saw the beasts that weren't there?"

Bakura's eyes widened. "Well, I suppose it's certainly possible," he said. "But then where . . ."

Marik stormed past him, his earrings jangling with the motion. "My Yami knew we would come here," he said, his voice dark. "He wants us to find your Yami." And there could only be one reason for that---Yami Marik believed it was too late to save the tomb-robber.

A cold chill stabbed into Bakura's heart. "No!" he protested. "It can't be!"

"I know where to find him now," Marik said in bitterness. "But it really might be too late."

"Where?!" Bakura gasped, hurrying after his friend. "Where is he?!"

"He's in an underground city," Marik called back. "My old home."

****

Yami Bakura clenched his teeth as the Shadow Game commenced. This _was_ similar to his battle with Pegasus, only now the roles were reversed. His mind was the weakened one, while Yami Marik's was fresh. And though he was fighting diligently, Yami Marik was sending scenes of the horrible memories and visions to his mind's eye. They were all there again---Kul Elna, the massacre. . . . Zorc taking over his spirit and gradually destroying him. . . . Bakura laying dead in his arms here in the cave, after trying to save him. . . .

He wavered, clenching a fist. His lifepoints dropped.

Then he gasped. Yami Marik was growing dimmer to his sight. In fact, so was everything else.

"What is this?!" he demanded, bringing up a hand in front of his face.

Yami Marik burst into hysterical cackles. "Here are the conditions of this Shadow Game," he said. "To win, you have to overwhelm your opponent with images and feelings that will destroy him. Every time you lose some of your lifepoints, you lose a bit of one of your senses. When your lifepoints drop to zero, your brain will be shrouded in darkness. No longer able to function, it will shut down and you will die!"

Yami Bakura glowered at him. "So I'm going blind," he said.

"And it won't just be your physical vision," Yami Marik grinned. "Your mind will go dark too."

"You've really thought of everything, haven't you?" Yami Bakura snarled.

His thoughts were racing. How was this even a fair game? What on Earth could he even show to Yami Marik that would devastate him? Yami Marik feared nothing. He was cruel and heartless, caring only for the misery of others. And his ultimate goal was to kill everyone until he was the only one left.

But wait. . . . If he did that, then . . .

Yami Bakura stiffened. He may have hit on the path to victory.

Yami Marik's evil grin widened. "You know it's hopeless, don't you?" he said. "I can't even be affected by anything you bring against me. But your weak heart is so easily broken." He pointed his forefinger at Yami Bakura in emphasis as he sent another round of gruesome images before the thief's fading eyes. This time the images were accompanied by Bakura screaming and crying out in the most pitiful, heartwrenching ways.

"Yami!" Bakura wailed. "Yami, please. . . . Yami, help me!" He held out a mangled, bleeding hand.

Yami Bakura gnashed his teeth. It was not real. But even knowing that, if this went on indefinitely, the horror could overwhelm him and drive him mad. That was what Yami Marik was hoping would happen.

A smirk came over his features. Yami Marik rocked back, stunned.

"Why are you smiling?!" he demanded. "You know you can't win!"

"Oh, but I can," Yami Bakura said. "Tell me something. You claim you want to destroy everything. So, when everyone is gone, what will you do with your time?"

"What?!" Yami Marik yelled in disbelief.

"You're such a sadist. Could you really survive without having something to torment?" Yami Bakura sneered. "I highly doubt it."

"You don't know anything!" Yami Marik growled. "I love solitude. I love to be alone."

"Ah, and what you're saying is that you would rather be by yourself right now instead of here, sending me to my death," Yami Bakura said. "I find that hard to believe!"

The Infinity Ring glowed. Images and feelings began to form, projecting out to Yami Marik. He was alone, wandering a desolate world that he had decimated. At first it was wonderful, relishing, to see what he had done. But after a while, the urge to torture something began to take hold of his heart. He started to search each ruined building and pile of rubble for another living soul, someone else to torment. But there was no one left; he had killed them all.

Yami Marik stared. He wavered, then gasped as his lifepoints descended. He stiffened, looking bewildered.

Yami Bakura studied him. Which sense was he losing? It did not really matter; what mattered was that he had hit on the truth. He did have a chance of winning.

Yami Marik snarled. "This game is only just beginning," he said, speaking louder than usual. "Don't think that because you lowered a few measly lifepoints that you can win against me."

Yami Bakura grinned. "I can and I will," he said.

Yami Marik gave him a confused look.

"You're going deaf, aren't you?" Yami Bakura said, raising his voice.

Yami Marik growled. "Let's keep going," he said.

Neither of them were certain how long their battle lasted. It could have been mere minutes or even hours. Each fought with everything he had, conjuring up the visions and feelings that he now knew would rattle the other.

As the outrageous game went on, Yami Bakura sank further into the darkness, his already-weakened body and mind swiftly wearing down in spite of his spirit's and heart's determination. He could no longer see at all. He could not even speak. But Yami Marik could not hear or feel. They were even.

Their other senses were beginning to fade as well. It was growing harder to feel the floor under Yami Bakura's feet. And though he could not view it, Yami Marik was straining to see.

_I will win,_ Yami Bakura vowed in his mind. _I cannot lose this fight._

He concentrated harder, trying to force himself to block out Bakura's screams and the sounds of ripping flesh and crunching bones. It was even worse when he could only hear it, imagining to himself what was happening without being to see. But he had to push it away. He had to focus solely on destroying his enemy. And he had to do it while keeping a cool head, not letting the hatred in his heart take precedence even though he wanted with all his soul to let it out.

Somehow they both knew this was the last attack. Each strained with all of his might, gathering his remaining energy into a final series of illusions. Yami Bakura screamed in his mind as the horrors swept over him, assaulting his remaining senses. Bakura's mutilated body fell against him, the blood running over his flesh. The stench was sickening. And the _sounds. . . ._ The dislocated, cracking bones. . . . The last moan as Bakura died. . . .

Yami Bakura's blinded eyes widened in rage and hatred.

Before he could react further, Zorc dug his talons into Yami Bakura's back. _"Now I will finish what I started,"_ he declared. _"I will absorb you, body and spirit. You will no longer remember anything that was important to you. You will not care about this boy or your family. You will not exist!"_

Pain raked through the thief's soul as Zorc tried to force his spirit to reenter Yami Bakura's body. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the assault.

Now there was fear in his eyes too. Struggling with all his might to keep it and his rage back, he sent his final visions at Yami Marik. With no one left to torture, Yami Marik went even more insane, eventually beginning to experiment on himself out of desperation. This he did until he perished from the wounds. Then there was only a blank nothingness---no more torment, no screams of pain. And he had brought it all on himself.

Yami Marik roared. The shadows swirled, dissipating from around Yami Bakura and only spinning around his nemesis.

Yami Bakura dropped to his knees. The darkness was clearing from over his eyes. Sight was returning to him, and likely speech and touch, as well. He could see Yami Marik's limp body, the empty eyes staring at nothing as he sank into the shadows that he had brought upon himself, fading into the recesses of the dark realm. Was he gone for good? Unlikely, but he was gone for now.

It was only a hollow victory. Yami Bakura had won, but the emotional damage had taken its toll. Had Yami Marik known that would happen? Of course, he had not believed Yami Bakura would win, but had he known that if the thief did, he would never be free? That the torment would continue to haunt him the rest of his life?

. . . In fact, who was he to say he had even won? What if everything had been an illusion? He had not known whether Yami Marik had really been there when he had agreed to fight the Shadow Game. Yes, it had all been fake. Yami Marik was probably standing over him right now, laughing, laughing. . . .

He trembled, his hands rising to the level of his eyes. An illusion within an illusion. He had believed himself blind and mute, but the fake Yami Marik had tricked him. And the real Yami Marik had tricked him into thinking there was a fake one.

He was forever trapped in his prison.

"Yami! Yami!"

No . . . not again. . . . He was hearing Bakura again. He was going to be tormented by having the boy with him and then seeing him die. He was powerless to do a thing; he could never save Bakura. And after what he had just come through, the thought of more was just too much.

"Yami . . . oh Yami, can you hear me?!"

He turned deadened eyes to face a horrified, heartbroken Bakura. The boy reached out, gently touching Yami Bakura's cheek. "You're bleeding! . . ."

He had not even noticed. "You're not real," he growled.

Bakura stiffened, the color leaving his face. "What?" he gasped.

"I know you're only a figment of my imagination." Yami Bakura spoke bitterly, brushing Bakura's hand away. "So is the blood. Everything is false. Perhaps _I'm_ a figment of imagination, too."

Tears filled Bakura's eyes. "Yami . . ."

"Just leave me alone!" Yami Bakura yelled. His voice cracked. And suddenly he was dizzy, the new stress and the many days without food or proper rest only adding to his already fragile state. He pitched forward, the colors spiraling in front of his eyes.

Bakura caught him as he swayed, sobbing as he enfolded the tortured man in his arms. "Yami!" he cried. "Oh Yami, what did he do to you?! What did he do?!"

Yami Bakura was too weak to do anything. He wanted to pull away, to scream and yell and swear at this phantom of his mind. If it was not Yami Marik's illusion, then it was his own. Supposing he really had won the battle, maybe it was too late for him because he had lost his mind in the process. Maybe he was hallucinating now, making up his own visions.

"What did he do?" Bakura whispered again.

"How is he?" a new voice asked.

"I barely recognize him," Bakura said sadly. He reached up with one arm, grabbing for something the other person was offering.

Something warm and soft was being placed around Yami Bakura's shoulders and drawn around his weakened body. Bakura held him close again, the tears slipping from his eyes and splashing into the wild whitish-lavender hair and over the tanned skin.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry we didn't know. . . . We couldn't find you until now, Yami. We never stopped looking, but . . . have we come too late?"

Yami Bakura growled low in his throat. Some of his illusions had involved being rescued, only for Bakura to abandon him or change into Yami Marik or something else that had left him even worse off than before. He would not believe. He _would not. . . ._

"Let's just get him out of here," the second voice said. "He looks too weak to stand. Rishid, can you carry him?"

_Rishid. . . ._

This second voice sounded like Marik. That was new. None of his illusions had ever involved Marik. They barely associated at all.

Strong arms reached for him, taking him away from Bakura. He tried to pull away, but he could not manage it. As he lay helpless in the other man's grip, Bakura stood, laying his hand over Yami Bakura's.

"I'm right here, Yami," he said, his voice still choked with emotions. "I won't leave you now. I promise!"

Yami Bakura looked at him. "That remains to be seen," he said.

Of course he wanted to believe. He wanted it with all his heart. But he was not ready to take a chance and be hurt again. He was not going to let Yami Marik, or his own insanity, make a fool of him any more.

"Will he ever get better from this?!" Bakura exclaimed in horror.

"I don't know," Marik said grimly. "If anyone can, he can. But . . ." He trailed off.

Wearily, Yami Bakura let his eyes shut. He was too exhausted to listen to this any longer.

When he awakened, perhaps he would be able to solve this mystery and know whether he had gone mad or not.


	8. What is Reality?

**Notes: I had to get creative with this prompt. Sorry, my dear shounen-ai fans, I'm afraid it wasn't interpreted the way you probably hope. ;)**

**What is Reality?**

**Prompt: Kiss**

_The smell coming up from the stairs was musty and ominous. Also unsettling was the complete silence at the bottom. With the Ishtars' family mission completed, the underground city was no longer inhabited. The torches were unlit, casting darkness over the already-unwelcoming structure._

_Bakura stared as Marik shined a flashlight over the stone steps. "Footprints!" the British boy gasped, seeing the indentations in the dust._

_Marik nodded. "They're here," he said, his tone and visage grave._

_He looked at the stairs with narrowed eyes. He had only been back here one other time since the day he had left with Rishid to enact his revenge on the Pharaoh. Seeing the place where his father had set up the alarm left him with mixed emotions and a stab wound to his heart. Though his Yami had been born the year before that, it had been the day that he and Ishizu had ventured outside that the demon had first begun his path of destruction._

_He stepped down onto the first stair. "I bet I know the room they're in, too," he said bitterly._

_Bakura swallowed hard, watching the Egyptian hurry down the steps. He followed right behind, his heart gathering speed. There were no sounds down here at all. Why? Not that he had wanted to, but he had expected to hear all kinds of horrific sounds of torture. What kind of condition was his Yami in? What had Marik's Yami done to him?!_

_"We can't be too late," he whispered under his breath. "We can't be!"_

_Joey gave a low whistle as he and the rest descended into the darkness. "Your family really lived down here?" he said in disbelief._

_"Yes." Ishizu nodded. "For thousands of years, the Ishtar clan dwelt underground as we waited and watched for the Pharaoh's return."_

_"And you never got to come up," Téa breathed in horror. What a lonely and desolate existence._

_Marik clenched his teeth behind closed lips as he kept walking. Unwelcome memories were flashing through his mind as he walked the dark halls of his former home. He had ran down these very corridors, hearing Rishid's cries of agony as he was beaten and whipped. . . . He had seen his adopted brother laying there, his back raw and bloodied and his eyes filled with pain, as he had passed into unconsciousness. . . . Then Marik had lost control of himself, Yami Marik taking over his body and attacking his father. . . ._

_Now he could hear the sound of heavy breathing somewhere up ahead. It was that room; he knew it was. He ran faster, shining his flashlight ahead of him._

_Bakura ran alongside him, his white hair streaming. "Yami!" he called. "Are you here?"_

_There was no answer. Marik reached the doorway, his eyes narrowing at what was there. The room was dark and mostly empty, save for a lone Egyptian kneeling and trembling on the floor. He was staring into the distance at nothing, his eyes anguished and glazed._

_He was unfamiliar to Marik, but Bakura gasped. "Yami!" he cried in horror. He ran in, dropping to his knees next to his friend._

_Marik narrowed his eyes, watching as Yami Bakura came back to himself just long enough to pull away and accuse Bakura of being a fake. It had been explained to him that the former Spirit of the Millennium Ring could alter his appearance with the Infinity Ring, and that he usually preferred to appear as he had in his mortal life, so it did not take long to determine that was the case now. There was still a glimmer of ferocity in his eyes, the fierceness of the Thief King he had once been. But to see him giving Bakura that look was frightening. Yami Marik truly had devastated him. It was a haunting sight, even for one who was not very close to Yami Bakura._

_The blond opened the duffel bag, taking out one of the warm down quilts he had packed. Then he stepped into the room, holding it out to Bakura. The other boy took it, wrapping it around the thief's body._

_"I'm sorry, Yami," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. . . ."_

_Marik observed grimly. If Yami Bakura did recover, the process would be long and hard. Would Bakura be able to help him through it? This would be a test of Bakura's strength as much as it would be of Yami Bakura's._

_Even Joey was stunned into silence at the sight. "Wow, he doesn't look good at all," he said at last, the shocked concern obvious in his voice. Was this really the creep who had done so much to them in the past? Was it even the same guy Bakura said had tried to protect him from the White Death? He looked like a starving, emotionally-shredded shadow of himself. His eyes were sunken and streaked with red, his cheeks gaunt and sallow, his lips dry and cracked. And from the looks of it, he was only allowing Bakura to embrace him because he was too weak to pull away. He still believed it was fake._

_"And where's Marik's Yami?" Tristan wondered._

_Ishizu shook her head. "We will ask these questions later. We must get Bakura's Yami where he can begin to recuperate from this catastrophe." She watched as Rishid lifted the thief into his strong arms. Yami Bakura briefly tried to struggle, but then gave up. He slumped against Rishid, sinking into either sleep or unconsciousness._

_Joey frowned. "Man, it's a good thing we have that private jet thanks to that cushy job of yours," he said as Rishid walked by, Bakura right at his side. "The last thing he needs is a bunch of nosy people watching him."_

_"What do you think we are?" Tristan muttered._

_  
"Hey! It's different with us!" Joey protested, whirling to face him with a clenched fist. "I mean, we know him! And we're not nosy, we're . . ." He trailed off. Were they actually worried about him? At least, was __**he**__ worried?_

_Tristan looked away. "We came to help Bakura," he summarized._

_  
"Yeah," Joey said, agreeing a bit too quickly. "Helping Bakura---that's what we're here for."_

_"Well, we're doing a great job so far," Téa muttered. She stepped forward. "Bakura, is there anything we can do?" she asked in concern._

_Bakura looked up, managing a weak smile. "Thank you, Téa," he said. "I don't know. . . ." He looked down at Yami Bakura, keeping his hand over the thief's as they left the dreaded room._

_"I'm so sorry," he whispered again. "If I could have stopped him from taking you . . ."_

_"Even he couldn't stop it," Marik said from behind him. "Don't blame yourself. It's because of you that he's been found."_

_Bakura's eyes were sad. "But is it too late?" he said._

_"We must have faith," Ishizu said._

_"You didn't give up on him all through the search," Marik said. "You're not going to give up on him now, are you?"_

_Bakura gripped the limp hand. "No," he said. "Of course not."_

_"Then everything will be fine," Marik said. "That's all he needs."_

_Bakura managed a weak smile._

_****_

A sad sigh escaped Bakura's lips as he sat next to his Yami's bed aboard the airplane's scant medical wing. He leaned over, brushing a damp cloth over the sick man's forehead and face.

"Yami?" he said softly. "Yami, can you hear me?"

A low grunt was his answer. But the Egyptian did not awaken; he turned his head to the side and grimaced, apparently lost in a nightmare.

Bakura sighed again, crossing his arms on the railing of the bed. With Rishid's help, he had managed to get his friend into actual clothes once they had got on the plane. The red robe was pulled mostly closed over the stong chest. Bakura could imagine how cold Yami Bakura must have been underground for so long.

"If you can hear me, Yami, please give me a sign," the boy pleaded. "I'm so worried about you. . . . You were so badly hurt that you couldn't even recognize that this is real." His voice lowered. "I just pray that you'll be able to tell when you wake up. . . ."

Tanned fingers gripped the quilt. "Bakura," he moaned. "Bakura, no!"

Bakura blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. "I'm right here, Yami," he said, laying his hand over the thief's. "I'm not hurt. But I am horribly worried about you."

Yami Bakura growled and did not respond.

****

_"No! Stop! Oh please . . . no!"_

_The screams of terror pierced his mind and heart. "Bakura?!" he yelled. He ran down one of the cave's many winding paths, his bare feet slapping on the rough ground. But he stopped cold at the sound of a mad cackle._

_"Dear little Ryou, now I have you right where I want you. You'll learn to like living with me eventually."_

_Lavender eyes burned. The White Death?! He ran again, picking up speed as he tore around a corner. That madman should be gone! How was he back again? Had he survived in the darkness just like Yami Marik?_

_The sickening scene before his eyes only made him pause for a split-second before he was running forward, eyes burning with hatred. Bakura was sprawled on the floor, panic-stricken as he fought to push the serial killer away from him. The devil was straddling him, running his hands through the long white locks._

_With a war cry, Yami Bakura tackled the White Death from the side, forcefully tearing him away from the boy. But as they struggled and rolled on the floor, the monster began to laugh._

_"It's too late!" he exclaimed. "It's too late, Spirit---he's mine now!"_

_Yami Bakura pinned him down by his shoulders. "What do you mean?!" he demanded. "He'll never belong to you!"_

_"Just look!" the White Death declared, pointing with his forefinger._

_Yami Bakura whirled to stare behind him. Bakura was suddenly laying so still, whereas just a few moments before he had been putting up such a fierce fight. Abandoning the crazed wretch, Yami Bakura hurried back to the boy. "Bakura?!" he exclaimed, taking hold of the still shoulders and giving them a rough shake._

_But there was no response; Bakura was stiff and cold in his grasp. His eyes were blank, staring at nothing . . . just like the empty eyes of the White Death's stuffed victims._

_The color drained from Yami Bakura's face. He trembled, drawing the lifeless form to him._

_"No," he rasped. "Bakura, no. . . ."_

_Rage burned in his heart. He looked back to the White Death, who was watching in mad delight. "You did this!" he screamed. "You killed him!"_

_The horrible grin widened. "Actually, you did it, Spirit!" the White Death said. _

_"What are you talking about?!" Yami Bakura demanded._

_"If you'd left me there stroking his hair, nothing would have happened. Because you tackled me away, you activated the spell I had in readiness. Now he's dead."_

_Yami Bakura shook. "A spell can be broken!" he yelled._

_  
"Not this one," the White Death sneered. "It's permanent. Face it, he no longer exists as anything except the centerpiece of my collection."_

_Yami Bakura pulled back, staring at the lifeless eyes. "No," he choked out. "Bakura. . . ."_

_Then another wretched cackle was echoing all around them. "How does it feel?" Yami Marik asked. "How does it feel to know that you're responsible for his death?"_

_  
"Be silent!" Yami Bakura snapped, his eyes dark._

_"You'll tell it to yourself then," Yami Marik sneered. "You'll think about it every day. You'll never be able to get the image of the boy's empty gaze out of your head. In fact, I bet that's already started."_

_Yami Bakura shook in anger, clutching the stiff body. "I'll kill both of you for this," he vowed._

_  
"But I'm already dead," protested the White Death. He smirked, taking off the Infinity Star as he burst into flame._

_Yami Marik gave a sickening grin in the darkness. "So am I," he said. "Or at least . . . you wish I was. But I'll never die. I'll stick around just so I can torment you. I promised to tame you. And I will!" Veins popped out all over his face. "But meanwhile, a piece has just been removed from play."_

_Yami Bakura stiffened. "What are you . . ." But at the feel of grains running through his fingers, he looked down in horror. Bakura's body was turning to sand._

_"Reminded of anything?" Yami Marik leered. "This time I'm the game master of a dark RPG. And you are my pawn!" He broke into hysterical laughter, even as he reached towards Yami Bakura with a curled hand._

_The floor opened up under him, sending him falling down, down . . . down until he saw a familiar, horrible, nightmarish being standing in Egypt far below._

_"No!" he yelled. "No, this can't be real!"_

_He plunged through the demon's back, suddenly enveloped by its darkness._

_"Yes!" Yami Marik cackled from somewhere around him. "Take control of the Zorc piece in my game. Then you'll be destroyed when he is!"_

_Yami Bakura yelled and cursed, panicked as he fought and clawed to get out. But it was no use; he was already trapped within the game piece, doomed to relive the final battle between Zorc and Atem. The Pharaoh was calling out his name right now. The thief continued to struggle in vain until the blood-chilling roar told him Zorc was being destroyed._

_The pain that ripped through him moments later forcefully confirmed it._

_****_

Bakura's heart was being shredded in pieces as the thief yelled and thrashed in the bed. "Yami!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "You're going to hurt yourself. Please, just relax. I'm here. I'm right here, if you could only see. . . ." He reached down, trying to lay his hands on Yami Bakura's shoulders to gently push him back into the bed. Yami Bakura only struggled all the more, shoving Bakura away from him as his eyes flew open.

Bakura cried out, more in surprise than pain, as he crashed against the chair. "Yami!" he gasped.

The lavender eyes stared at him as Yami Bakura sat up in the bed. Then they narrowed contemptuously. Yami Bakura was still reeling from the nightmare, which had been peppered with some of the actual illusions he had been forced to see over the past days. He growled low in his throat, throwing back the covers. But the added warmth against his body gave him pause. He looked down at himself, slowly running his hands over the familiar red robe. He had not been dressed since before Yami Marik had taken him.

Bakura pushed himself away from the chair. "You see, Yami?" he said, a bit of hope creeping into his eyes and his voice. "This is real. You're safe. Rishid helped me get you into these clothes, and . . ."

"Rishid again?" Yami Bakura grunted. "I wasn't expecting the fantasy from earlier to pick up again." He sneered at Bakura. "You're a persistent hallucination, aren't you."

Bakura flinched. "But Yami . . ." He tried to push back the lump that had suddenly arrived in his throat. "Yami, I'm real." He reached out a hand, but Yami Bakura snatched his wrist, holding it away from him.

"You're going to turn into that devil, aren't you?" he snapped. "Laughing and mocking me, just like before."

Bakura stared at him. "Yami, you've been through so much," he whispered. "I can't even imagine."

"Oh, I'm sure you can't!" Yami Bakura retorted. "After you did everything you could to weaken me for the mind probe. You know exactly what I've been through." He released Bakura's wrist with a forceful half-push, sending the boy back again. Then he got off the bed, ignoring his shaking legs as he struggled to limp towards the nearest door.

Bakura gasped in horror. "Yami, no!" he cried, leaping up to run after him. "That's the emergency exit! You can only go out if you have a parachute! We're on an airplane!"

"Bah!" Yami Bakura retorted. "So I'll leap out and fall, crash, and then be right back where I was before to start all over again. There's no airplane."

Bakura grabbed him from behind, his fingers digging into Yami Bakura's shoulders. "No!" he wailed. "There's an airplane. I won't let you go out. I won't!" He strained, fighting to pull the man back. Yami Bakura was certainly the stronger of the two, and even in his weakened condition he was putting up a battle against Bakura. The more he pulled forward, the more Bakura screamed and pulled backward, until Yami Bakura's wobbly legs gave out and the duo tumbled to the floor.

His eyes flaming, he turned and seized Bakura as they struggled across the carpet. "I hate you!" he roared as he gained the upper hand. "I _hate _you!" He spat a series of obscenities in Egyptian as he locked his arms around Bakura's waist, throwing him to the hard floor. The boy cried out in pain, desperately gripping the muscular arms.

"Yami, it's me!" he wailed. "Please believe me, Yami! I'm not Yami Marik. It's me! It's Bakura." Fear was rising in his heart. Was Yami Bakura going to attack? What would he do if that happened? How could he defend himself and protect Yami Bakura too? Yami Bakura would be devastated if he harmed Bakura, even moreso after all of the mental torment he had been undergoing where Bakura was killed.

Yami Bakura was seething, his eyes wild as his hands curled around Bakura's throat. But something in the urgency of his opponent's voice made him pause. He stared at the horrified, panic-stricken brown eyes. . . . Was it at all possible? Could it really be Bakura this time? There was really nothing that should make him believe it was more than Yami Marik's sick illusions or his own madness finally sinking in. He had dreamed of being rescued, of finally being clothed again and taken home by Bakura, but it had never been real. This was no exception.

. . . Even though there had been mentions of Marik and Rishid, something that had never happened before.

Something cool and wet splashed onto the back of his left hand. He froze, looking closer. The boy was crying. The tears were kissing his hands, as if awakening him to a sense of what was truly happening.

He jerked back, releasing the pale neck. Bakura . . . yes, it was Bakura. He had attacked Bakura in his madness. He stared, quaking, the bile rising in his throat. That would have been the final triumph of Yami Marik, if he had killed the boy he had sworn to protect. He truly had been driven insane.

Repulsed, he staggered to his feet and turned, running for the door leading to the rest of the airplane.

In vain Bakura tried to grab the edge of his flowing robe. "Yami!" he cried as he struggled up. "Yami, you're not well! Please don't go out there!" He gave chase, his heart pounding.

Yami Bakura hauled open the door anyway. But the combination of the sudden physical activity and his weakness from hunger swept over him with a vengeance. He swayed, nearly crashing to his knees as the room teetered out of focus.

Bakura caught up to him, trying both to support him and embrace him from the side. "Yami, please," he begged. "Don't leave. Please get back into bed. _Please! . . ._" He stared at his friend. "I'm so worried about you. . . ."

Yami Bakura turned to look at him, his eyes devastated and broken. The once-proud Thief King sank to his knees, clutching at Bakura's cream-colored sweater.

"Forgive me," he pleaded. "Bakura, please forgive me. . . ."

Bakura sank down too. "There's nothing to forgive," he said softly as he brought his arms around the man in a warm, welcoming hug. "It's going to be alright, Yami. I promise! It will be alright."

Yami Bakura gripped at him as a shudder passed through his body.

Bakura, his last line to sanity.


	9. Faith

**Faith**

**Prompt: Pain**

The white-haired boy gave a sad sigh as he sat once again by his Yami's bedside, watching the thief's slumber. Yami Bakura was on his side, burrowed into the bed and the quilt, not to mention the pillow. Far more exhausted than hungry, he had promised to eat something after a rest. Just relieved that Yami Bakura was talking to him and trying to work at getting better, Bakura had not protested.

"I should never have doubted you, Yami," he said quietly. "Of course it wasn't too late. Of course you still have a chance of recovery."

But he could not help shuddering as the memories of being dragged to the floor and nearly strangled came back to him. The look in the lavender eyes had been murderous. Yami Bakura had never looked at Bakura like that, not even when Bakura had interfered in his plans to claim the Millennium Puzzle. Bakura would never be able to wipe the horror of those eyes from his mind.

However, Yami Bakura likely never would be able to, either. He had stayed awake for a long time, haunted, clutching at Bakura as the boy had hugged him close. He had never wanted to hurt his former host. _"I thought you were __**him,**__"_ he had said despondently. _"He tricked me like that before. He did it so many times. . . ."_

_"I know, Yami," _Bakura had reassured him. _"It's alright. I'm fine! And you're going to get well. I promise!"_

_"You're kinder than I deserve," _Yami Bakura had grunted in reply. _"You always have been."_

_"You deserve it, Yami,"_ Bakura had told him, sadness prevalent in his voice. _"Hardly anyone ever showed you kindness, did they?"_

For a long time Yami Bakura had been silent. _"Not after the massacre, no,"_ he had said at last._ "My family and the other villagers were the only ones who ever cared about me."_

And Bakura had hugged him close again, cursing the unfairness of it all.

"Hey, Bakura. . . ."

He started and looked up. Yugi, Joey, Tristan, and Téa were coming into the medical wing, all looking worried to various degrees. Tristan seemed the most edgy. Bakura swallowed hard, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Hello," he greeted, trying to smile. "He's sleeping peacefully now. . . ."

"Yeah, after nearly choking you to death!" Tristan exclaimed in horror.

Bakura flinched. He had been afraid that they would find out, due to the security cameras in the medical wing. But surely, if they had seen it, they realized what had actually been behind it, didn't they?

Yugi looked a little apologetic at Tristan's outburst. "Are you alright, Bakura?" he asked.

Bakura nodded. "Yes," he said, standing up. "But please, let's talk somewhere else. I don't want to wake him. . . ."

"Hey, I wouldn't either, after that display," Joey said.

Bakura walked stiffly out of the room and into the hall. As the others followed him, he reached and shut the door, then leaned against it with crossed arms.

"He didn't mean to hurt me," he said. "He still couldn't believe he was really safe. He thought it was a trick."

"Well, maybe he did," Tristan said, "but that doesn't mean it's a good thing for you to be around him. What if it happens again?"

"I honestly don't think it will," Bakura said. "But if it does, I'll just reassure him of the truth until he can grasp it."

"Or until he grasps your neck?!" Tristan stepped forward. "Bakura, you're playing with fire. You're totally inexperienced for something like this."

Bakura gripped his arms. "So what do you want me to do with him, Tristan?" he queried, unable to keep his voice from sounding clipped.

"He needs help, we all agree about that," Tristan said. "But I think you should leave it up to a professional."

"Tristan?!" Yugi gasped in disbelief. Téa and Joey stared.

Bakura ignored them. "So they can lock him up and treat him like he's crazy?!" he snapped, pushing himself away from the door.

"He _is_ crazy!" Tristan said. He looked pleadingly at the other teen. "Bakura, we just don't want you to get hurt."

"Doctors wouldn't even have any idea what he was talking about!" Bakura cried. "They would never let him go, especially if he started talking about Kul Elna and living in Egypt three thousand years ago. Surely you know that, Tristan." Then he stiffened, a deep frown passing over his features. "Or is that exactly why you're saying this?" he asked. "You're hoping to get rid of him?"

"No!" Tristan shot back.

"And are all of you in agreement with him?!" Bakura went on, the betrayal and fire in his eyes as he sought out each of the others.

Joey looked guilty. "Well . . . I dunno," he said. "Hey, we were all upset when we saw what was going on, but we didn't know Tristan was going to bring something like this up. It never even crossed my mind."

Yugi nodded. "I'm sorry, Bakura," he said. "It's true, we're all worried, and I know Tristan's just saying this because of his worry, but . . ." He looked down at the floor. "I don't think that's the solution."

Tristan looked at Yugi in disbelief. "But Yugi, you saw what that guy did!" he protested. "And even after everything he's been through, he's so much stronger than Bakura. He could snap Bakura's neck in an instant!"

"He could," Yugi said, looking up again, "but he won't."

Téa's eyes widened. "Yugi . . ." She wanted to believe too, but how could he be so sure?

Yugi nodded. "He's stronger than that," he said. "If it ever starts to happen again, he'll stop himself. And Bakura will help him." He smiled at the stunned British boy. "Bakura, you're right, you need to stay with him. I honestly don't think he can get better without you. He knows you and trusts you. You treat him with kindness and compassion. And you know about a lot of the things he'll talk about. You're right, the doctors wouldn't. And to be locked up, or tied down, or whatever they might do to him . . . it would only make it worse. He would feel angry---and worse, betrayed and abandoned. To have found him in as good of condition as we did is a miracle. But the only way the miracle can keep going is if you help him through this."

Bakura's eyes were shining. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice choked. "Thank you, Yugi."

Téa smiled. She would believe because of Yugi's faith---and because what he was saying made a lot of sense.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Joey proclaimed. He gave Tristan a sidelong glance. "What do you say, old pal?"

Tristan did not look happy. But his shoulders slumped in defeat. "It's Bakura's decision," he said. "I just hope it's the right one."

"It is," Bakura said, looking to him. "I can promise that."

In the room behind them, Yami Bakura stirred, opening one lavender eye. But then, exhausted, he let it drop shut again, even as what he had subconsciously heard of the conversation penetrated deep into his mind.

****

_"Yami!"_

_He started, turning his head to the side. He was chained to the wall again, helpless. But Bakura was running to him from one of the pathways, horror and shock in his eyes._

_"Oh Yami . . . I'm so sorry!" He stopped, staring at the sad sight for only a moment. Then he hastened forward, carefully undoing the shackles binding the weakened man to the wall. Yami Bakura fell forward, his knees buckling under him. Bakura caught him as he crumpled, holding him close._

_  
"It's going to be alright," he reassured. "Here, I'll help you leave. Can you walk?" He started to drape a sore arm around the captive's shoulders._

_"I . . . I don't know," Yami Bakura growled, hating the fact that he honestly did not know. He was dizzy; the world was fading in and out of his vision. He sagged further against Bakura, shutting his eyes against the topsy-turvy view._

_Bakura drew a firm arm around the bare waist. "Just take a step," he encouraged. "I won't let you fall."_

_Shakily Yami Bakura moved a foot ahead of him._

_Bakura stepped up with him. "That's good," he said. "Now another."_

_Yami Bakura did so._

_In this way they traveled through the various rooms and hallways. Bakura was always encouraging him to keep going. Somehow, he always managed to take another step even when he was sure he could not go any further. And then at last they were departing the treacherous cave, walking out into the daylight. The winter sun touched them, warming flesh that had not felt the rays in what seemed ages._

_"It feels good, doesn't it?" Bakura said._

_Yami Bakura grunted. ". . . How did you find me?" he asked then._

_"Oh . . . it wasn't too hard," Bakura said._

_Yami Bakura frowned, cracking his eyes open just enough to look at the boy. Something seemed off._

_Bakura was grinning eerily at him, looking like a horrendous cross between the thief and Yami Marik. Then he laughed, abruptly letting go as he shoved Yami Bakura to the ground. The Egyptian caught himself, kneeling in shock._

_  
"Bakura," he gasped. "What . . ."_

_"I let Yami Marik take you, Yami!" Bakura exclaimed. "I don't care about you. I never did. I just wanted to see you suffer. And now that I've seen the hope in your eyes, I can extinguish it." He kicked the stricken man in the ribs. "You will never be free, Yami!"_

_A cry escaped Yami Bakura's lips, more from the pain of betrayal than any physical discomfort. As Bakura kicked him again and again, he fell to the ground, unable to hold himself upright. He stared ahead blankly, barely registering as the blows continued to land. It did not matter now; the only person who had cared about him in three thousand years had turned against him. His will to even try to fight back was gone._

_He would give up and die. He was more than half-there already._

_One kick hit him in the head. He sank down the rest of the way, accepting oblivion as it descended on him._

_****_

"Yami?"

A gentle hand touched his shoulder. He jerked, batting it away as he burrowed against something hard and cold. He did not want any more false sympathy or concern. If that was his lot, he would rather be alone.

. . . But . . . hard and cold? Where was he?

"Yami, we're home. . . ."

"Home?" he mumbled. His voice sounded slurred, even to him in his half-asleep state.

"Yes." Now Bakura reached for him, easing him away from the hard and cold thing as he brought one arm around him. With the other he reached over, pushing something open. A rush of frosty air shot in at them.

Yami Bakura's eyes popped open, focusing on the scene. They were in a car; he must have been leaning against the back window. Now the door was standing wide, revealing a familiar yard beyond its borders. It really did look like home.

Was this truly reality? What if he had dreamed about Bakura being there and treating him kindly and him trying to strangle the boy, believing him to be Yami Marik? What if it really had been an illusion of Yami Marik's, or worse, him going insane? What if the Bakura with him now was not the real Bakura and would turn against him again?

"Are you alright, Yami?"

He looked up, into the boy's worried brown eyes. They were filled with sincerity and kindness. And his neck was red. . . .

Guilt swept over Yami Bakura. His lips parted as he tried to form words. His throat was raw, making his voice far more gravelly than usual.

"I hurt you," he rasped.

Now Bakura's eyes were sad. "You didn't mean to, Yami," he said. "And I'm alright, really I am! I'm fine because you stopped yourself." He looked directly into the stunned lavender eyes. "I know you won't hurt me!"

Yami Bakura stared at him. Bakura still had faith. The boy was a fool.

". . . We should get out now," Bakura said, feeling a bit awkward. "You could have something more to eat, if you want, or just go up to bed. . . ."

"_More_ to eat?" Yami Bakura grunted.

"You had a bit of applesauce on the airplane," Bakura said. "You don't remember?"

He did not. He only remembered finally agreeing to go back to sleep and then being lost in his world of illusion-memories.

Bakura gave a quiet, sad sigh at the blank look. "Well, you were quite out of it," he said. "I was worried, honestly. . . . But when I asked, you agreed to eat it. And you still fed yourself. It was one of those small cups with a wooden spoon that looks like a paddle. Then you laid back down and went to sleep again."

Yami Bakura did not answer; he was studying the distance from the car to the ground. Shakily he reached for the door handle, pulling himself upright as he started to maneuver his right leg out of the opening. As his foot touched the cold sidewalk, he was gratified that Bakura had given him his shoes---even though they were for walking in Egypt and not for a Pacific Northwest winter.

Though for all he knew, maybe he had put his shoes on himself. If he could not remember eating, what else was lost to his mind?

"Can you make it out, Yami?" Bakura asked in concern. "Rishid's still here, if you need some help. . . ." He indicated the silent man sitting on the other side of the row.

Yami Bakura looked over his shoulder, briefly glancing at Rishid and then away. "I can make it," he said.

"Well, his pride is intact," Marik muttered from somewhere in the van.

Yami Bakura ignored him as he eased his other foot to the ground and began to pull himself out of the van. Bakura perked up, watching him with outstretched arms in case he needed help. The thief wobbled, but gripped the door and limped around to the front of it, moving his hands to the outside handle. Bakura hurried to follow him out.

"I think we can make it from here," he said with a weak smile. "Thank you so much for all your help. . . ." He reached out, placing an arm around Yami Bakura's lower back for support.

Marik nodded, watching from the nearest window. "I'm just glad we found him alive," he said.

Ishizu nodded too. "The rest is up to both of you," she said.

"Take care, guys," Yugi said.

Joey waved. "See you around!" he said.

Bakura smiled. "Goodbye," he returned.

Yami Bakura did not answer. As far as he was concerned, Bakura could speak for both of them. He just wanted to get inside and out of the cold. He limped forward, still running a hand over the side of the van for balance.

Bakura walked with him, steadying him as they went up the stairs and onto the porch. "The house is dark," he noted as he took out his keys.

Yami Bakura just grunted. "Did you expect it wouldn't be?" he returned.

Bakura looked to him, encouraged by the reply. "Well, I wondered if Father would be back yet," he said. "He's in Germany again. . . . Unfinished business from last time, I believe. . . ." Inserting the right key into the lock, he turned it and opened the door.

Yami Bakura stared at the room as it came into view. Home. . . . If he was not going mad, if he was seeing everything as it truly was, then he really was free. Bakura had saved him. . . .

Bakura smiled at him as he reached to turn on the light. "I can hardly believe it myself," he confessed. He sobered. "Yami, I . . . I was so afraid I wouldn't be able to get you back. . . ."

"And have you?" Yami Bakura stepped inside, looking around the room. The disaster from Yami Marik's intrusion had long ago been set right. But his heart and soul could not be righted as easily as the toppled furniture.

Bakura laid a hand on his shoulder, startling him. "Yes," he said. "And I promise, I'll be here for you as you try to pick up the pieces."

"There's quite a lot of them," Yami Bakura growled.

"I know," Bakura said softly.

Abruptly the thief moved towards the stairs. He grasped the banister as he limped up the steps, favoring the left side. At the top, he turned towards the bathroom. "I'll be out in a few minutes," he said, still in the same, gruff tone. Not giving Bakura a chance to protest, he headed inside and shut the door.

Bakura stared up at the slab of wood, then quietly sighed. "I hope you'll be alright, Yami," he said, mostly to himself.

He flinched at the sound of the shower coming on a moment later. "And I hope you know what you're doing," he added.

****

Yami Bakura stood under the beating water, letting it wash over his tired, bruised body. He wanted to erase all possible traces of his wretched prison before he ate or laid down or whatever it was he felt like doing. Frankly, he did not feel like doing much of anything whatsoever. Certainly he did not feel like standing here in this slippery tub, his knees knocking as he grabbed the soap. . . .

His vision split in two. He growled, gripping the edge of the windowsill above him. Clearly he was not ready to be up at all. A small cup of applesauce had not given him much strength. And in spite of the sleep from the flight, he was still exhausted. Jet lag probably had a lot to do with it, but the rest was from his body's insistence on being weary.

The soap slipped from his hand, striking the scar on his abdomen as it went down. He flinched. That hurt far more than it should have. . . .

_"So, while prowling through your mind I learned some very interesting things."_

_Yami Bakura looked coldly at the leering Yami Marik. He was chained to the wall once more, unable to do a thing about his predicament. He had awakened from the last hallucination to discover it had happened without his knowledge. And his mood was only growing worse._

_"Of course I already suspected this, but I confirmed you're a masochist. You like pain, hmm?" Yami Marik placed his hand mockingly under Yami Bakura's chin, tilting his head slightly upward. "What do you say we try an experiment?"_

_  
"I would tell you to try it on yourself," Yami Bakura growled._

_  
"Oh, don't be like that," Yami Marik grinned. "Maybe you'll even like it. I just wondered---since we discovered you can be devastated by emotional torture, can you also be so overwhelmed by physical pain that you no longer relish it?" He stepped back, his eyes going wild. "Let's find out!"_

_Yami Bakura did not even have a chance to protest before the Eon Spear was plunging into his middle, right where it had entered in the past. He gasped, blood immediately rising to his throat. He spat it out, clenching his fists as Yami Marik deliberately moved the weapon around in the wound. There was nothing he could do about it; he was completely helpless._

_Yami Marik's crazed expression only grew worse. "Do you like it?!" he exclaimed. "Because I do!" He jerked the spear partially outward and then upward, cutting a path through flesh and bone. Without warning he pulled it out all the way, blood and gore dripping from the point and the lower half of the staff. Then he stabbed it through Yami Bakura's body again, this time in his side._

_Again and again the horrific process repeated. The spear plunged in at some location in Yami Bakura's torso, then was jerked to and fro before slicing through both his flesh and his guts. When he broke down and screamed, Yami Marik laughed. As the agony only increased, the cries tore from his lips without him even able to try holding them back. And the more he screamed, the more Yami Marik cackled._

_"The slightest touch to your wound will be painful from now on!" he prophesied. "You won't be able to forget what's been done here tonight. I won't let you!"_

The blood-curdling scream and the crash sent Bakura flying up the stairs two at a time. "Yami!" he cried in alarm. "Yami, what is it?! What's wrong?!" But there was no answer. Not even bothering to knock, Bakura flung open the bathroom door, thankful it was not locked. But as he ran over and pulled the shower curtain aside, he could only stop and stare.

Yami Bakura was sitting down in the tub, the shower beating on him and plastering his hair to his face and neck. He was slumped against the side as he clutched his stomach, his eyes wide with pain. But they were also clearly not focused. He was lost in another delusion.

Bakura was horrified. "Yami, what is it?!" he exclaimed. Kneeling down, he tried to gently pry the thief's hands away from his abdomen. But there was nothing to see. Bakura stared, puzzled, as the hands came away, revealing only the scar from the prior, life-threatening injury.

Yami Bakura heaved, as if coughing up blood. But there was nothing there.

"He's tearing me apart!" he cried, gripping Bakura's shoulders in desperation. "He's ripping me up from the inside out! Can't you see it?!"

Horror and tears filled Bakura's eyes. "No!" he protested. "No, I can't. Yami, it isn't real. It _wasn't_ real. He was just making you think it was happening! Please snap out of it, Yami! Look at yourself---you're not wounded!"

Yami Bakura just looked at him dumbly. "I'm not?" His eyes narrowed. "Bah! You're blind. Don't you think I can tell?!"

"I'm not blind!" Bakura said, the desperation growing in his heart. "Yami, focus! You're here with me. Yami Marik is gone. And you aren't wounded!"

Yami Bakura blinked, as if it was at last registering in his tormented mind. "Bakura . . ." Shaking, he stared down at his stomach. Bakura was right---there were no horrendous, graphic injuries. His skin had not been pierced at all. He let go of the boy, gingerly running his fingers over the scar.

"What's happened to me, Bakura?" he said at last, his voice still far away. "Am I going mad?"

Bakura's heart twisted. "You've gone through things so horrible I can't even begin to fathom them," he said. "No, Yami, you're not mad. It's Yami Marik who's mad." Bitterness crept into his voice with these words. It was Yami Marik's fault. It was all his fault! He had turned a strong, proud man into this suffering creature---and he was _proud_ of _that._ Bakura was not prone to hate, but seeing Yami Bakura's state, he truly felt that he hated Yami Marik now.

"It's going to be alright, Yami," he said. "I swear, you're going to get well."

Yami Bakura grunted, clearly not of the same opinion. ". . . You're getting wet," he pointed out, changing the subject.

Bakura blinked. He had not even noticed the shower beating down on his hair and clothes. Now that Yami Bakura mentioned it, he realized he was soaked to the skin. "Oh my. I really am," he said, gawking at the drenched sleeve of his sweater.

A slight smirk crept over the tired features. "You didn't even realize," he said.

Bakura straightened up. "I was so worried about you, Yami, I guess I just wasn't paying attention," he said. He reached out a hand. "Here, let me help you."

Yami Bakura just looked at the hand for a moment. Then slowly he extended his own hand, taking hold of Bakura's wrist. Smiling, Bakura returned the gesture and pulled him to his feet.

"Are you sure you should stay in here?" he asked in concern.

"I'm going to finish what I started," Yami Bakura said. In spite of the horrifying experience he had just relived, his eyes were filled with determination.

At last Bakura nodded. Yami Bakura wanted to prove to himself that he could do it, that Yami Marik would not reign over his mind and soul and cause him to not be able to function normally. And even though Bakura was worried, how could he deny that to his friend?

"Well . . . alright then," he said. He reached into the tub, then held up a soggy bar. "You'll need this."

Yami Bakura took the soap, glowering in distaste at its sticky state. But then he proceeded to rub his hands over it, preparing to lather his upper body.

Bakura gave a weak smile as he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.


	10. Night

**Notes: I actually did what Bakura says Joey did. And the mention of the chemistry class escapades is a nod to a beloved old RP.**

**Night**

**Prompt: Beauty**

By the time Yami Bakura somehow completed the shower and staggered out to get dressed, his body was aching and his mind was in a fog. When he limped out of the bathroom, he fully intended to go into Bakura's father's room, where he slept when the museum director was not home. But instead he shuffled into Bakura's room and collapsed on the boy's bed. The mattress felt so soft and comforting against his throbbing joints and raw skin. He pulled the pillow closer to him.

Sleep came without him being fully aware of her presence, enfolding him in her heavy arms and dragging him back to Yami Marik's world---a world filled with nothing but torment and anguish, where Bakura was harmed in all manner of horrifying ways and died gruesome deaths. A world where, if he survived, he turned against Yami Bakura. A world where Yami Bakura was killed in every terrifying way Yami Marik could think of, only to be brought back to life for it to start all over again. . . .

He woke up gasping and drenched in cold sweat, his eyes wide as he clutched the pillow.

"Yami?"

The worried voice made him jump a mile. Bakura . . . was it really Bakura? He turned, his eyes searching in the darkness. The boy seemed to be sitting in the chair by the bed. And light . . . there was light coming from the hall, though this room was in darkness. He had been in a land of total night for so long that anything else seemed strange.

"Oh Yami, what is it?!" Bakura exclaimed, breaking into his turning thoughts once again.

Yami Bakura let go of the pillow, reaching out a desperate hand to grab Bakura's wrist. "Come closer," he half-ordered, half-begged. It truly was real, wasn't it? Bakura felt real. This bed felt real. Even the light felt real. But it could all disappear so fast. Yami Marik had proved that to him time and again. Now it was a lesson he could never forget.

Bewildered and stunned, Bakura stood up and moved to the edge of the bed. As he sat on the mattress, Yami Bakura rose, looking at his descendant with urgency. "Look at me!" he commanded. "Am I whole?"

Bakura nodded. "Yes, Yami," he reassured.

"Are you sure?!" Yami Bakura cried.

Bakura tried to blink back the tears. "Yes!" he said. Gently he took Yami Bakura's hand, bringing it to his own face. "Here, Yami. Feel. You're quite whole."

Yami Bakura touched the side of his face, then brought his hand to his neck and shoulders. "I don't trust how things appear to be anymore," he said. "What about you? Are you whole?"

"I am!" Bakura said. "But Yami . . ." He swallowed hard. "If . . . if you don't trust how things appear, how can you trust that I'm really here, telling you the truth?"

"I don't know." Yami Bakura looked away, a shudder rippling through his body. The memories were still too fresh in his mind, things he could never survive if they really happened. Things Bakura could never survive, and had not survived. And always Yami Marik, laughing, laughing, his horrible, twisted visage lurking in the background of Yami Bakura's mind.

He covered his face with a shaking hand.

"Yami . . ." Bakura sounded hesitant now. "Do you . . . want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. He did not know that he would ever be ready for that. Besides, in spite of everything Bakura had seen over the years, he still somehow managed to be innocent and optimistic. Yami Bakura did not want to plague his mind with the images of what he had seen and experienced again and again during his captivity.

". . . You talk," he said.

Bakura blinked. "Me?" he said in confusion.

Yami Bakura nodded. "Just talk about anything." He wanted to hear Bakura's voice. He wanted to be told all manner of foolish, ridiculous things that he could not care less about, just so there was something else to put his mind to besides the memories of the torture. And maybe . . . maybe it would further help him to believe in this reality. The Bakuras in his illusions never spoke of trivial matters.

"Anything?" Bakura shifted, surprised and a bit uncomfortable with the request. "Well, I'll try," he said. "Should I talk about school? Yugi and the others?"

"Anything, anything!" Yami Bakura said. He took his hand away from his face and just sat on the bed, looking forlorn and exhausted.

"Well . . ." Bakura chuckled weakly. "After a refresher lesson in math class on all the different kinds of triangles, Joey tried to figure out what kind the sandwiches in the cafeteria had been cut into. . . . Tristan told him he was getting far too involved in the concept."

Yami Bakura grunted. That sounded like them.

". . . An experiment in science class blew up again," Bakura said sheepishly.

"What damage was done this time?" Yami Bakura spoke. The chemistry experiments were notorious for going awry. And the chemistry teacher was notorious for finding each disaster a fascination---something that on the one hand Yami Bakura found amusing, while on the other it seemed unprofessional. Or maybe that was his protective side talking. After all, Bakura could get _hurt._ Once he and the rest of the class had fallen unconscious from an experiment that had created a new kind of knockout gas. Bakura was just lucky that Yami Bakura had been there then to take control and get him out of the room---and to bring help for the others, of course.

"I'm afraid we currently have no window panes," Bakura said. "Everything made of glass shattered."

Yami Bakura sneered.

". . . There's a Valentine's dance coming up," Bakura said, grasping for anything to say.

"And I suppose quite a few girls are hoping you'll ask them to go," Yami Bakura remarked.

Bakura's cheeks colored at the thought. "I've never been very good with girls," he said.

Yami Bakura smirked in amusement. "And since you don't want to make any of them hurt or angry or jealous, I suppose you'll opt to not ask anyone, as usual."

"I suppose. I really wasn't even planning on going." Especially not now. Bakura had promised he would not leave Yami Bakura during his recovery. And he would far rather spend the evening with the thief instead of going to a dance and feeling awkward for three hours.

He turned a deeper red as he remembered something else. ". . . You know, Yami, you've actually made quite a name for yourself," he said.

Questioning lavender eyes searched the brown orbs for an explanation. Bakura scratched his cheek.

"Some of the girls at school, well . . . they've been asking me about my Egyptian cousin," he said. "They think you're quite exotic."

Yami Bakura just looked disgusted. "The empty-headed fanclub of Duke Devlin's?" he guessed.

Bakura blushed even more. "Well . . . yes," he admitted.

"As I recall, they also started a fanclub for you," Yami Bakura said.

Bakura shifted. "They did," he nearly squeaked.

Yami Bakura smirked now. "And I suppose they sit around discussing how you keep your hair so perfect," he said. "And how polite and kind you are. And what it would be like to go on a date with you."

Bakura was bright red again. "Oh Yami, stop teasing!" he exclaimed, waving a hand at the entertained Egyptian. "You're finding this far too amusing!"

"It is amusing," Yami Bakura grinned.

Bakura blinked and then gave him a mischievous smile. "Maybe you wouldn't think so if they made a fanclub for you and started discussing what it would be like to go on a date with you," he said.

"They can discuss it all they want," Yami Bakura said. "If they actually attempted such a thing, they would regret it."

Thinking of how Yami Bakura would behave if he took a girl to a restaurant, Bakura winced and had to agree. In fact, _he_ would regret it. He would feel like sinking through the floor out of embarrassment.

Yami Bakura smirked more, seeing Bakura's glowing face. "I win," he said.

Bakura hit him lightly on the shoulder. "This isn't a contest!" he said.

"It is, because I just invented it," Yami Bakura said.

Bakura crossed his arms. "Oh? And what kind of contest is it, exactly?"

"A contest to determine who can rattle the other first," Yami Bakura said.

"That's rubbish," Bakura said. But he could not help the bittersweet smile that passed over his face. Yami Bakura was acting normal. He was going at this nonsense as if he and Bakura really were brothers. If anyone happened to see this scene, they would never know what he had been through or how he was still suffering. And of course, that was how he wanted it. But Bakura, sitting next to him, could see the pain in his eyes and the gauntness of his form. This attempt at behaving normally was all an act. He was screaming inside.

". . . Is there anything you'd like to eat, Yami?" Bakura asked now.

Yami Bakura grunted and shrugged.

Bakura racked his mind, thinking. "Maybe some broth?" he suggested. "It would be good for you and easy on your stomach. Oh . . . and it has a taste of meat. . . ."

Yami Bakura's eyes lit up. "Perhaps," he said.

Bakura chuckled. "Well, come on then," he said, getting off the bed. ". . . Unless you'd rather wait here while I fix it," he amended.

Yami Bakura began to ease his muscular form off the mattress. "I'll come down there," he said. He would not admit that he did not want to be alone right now. As long as Bakura was here, the worst of Yami Marik's damage seemed to be held at bay. Once he was alone, the nightmares and hallucinations would probably start anew. They were already tugging at his mind, in the form of cruel laughs and screams.

Bakura waited in case he needed help. As he stumbled, Bakura reached and took hold of his arm. "I'll help you down," he offered, his voice and his smile kind and quiet.

Ordinarily Yami Bakura would have pulled away and asserted his independence. But he knew he was likely to fall. So instead he swallowed his pride---something he had been forced to do all that day---and shakily brought his arm around the boy's shoulders.

Bakura slipped his arm around the taller man's lower back, walking slowly as they headed for the door. Yami Bakura half-limped, half-shuffled as they went, not speaking as he concentrated on moving forward without stumbling. Once or twice he staggered, pitching forward as Bakura hastened to tighten his grip. Yami Bakura in turn clutched Bakura's shoulder in desperation as he tried to right himself.

Somehow they made it downstairs without disaster striking. Bakura gave a sigh of relief as they went into the kitchen, where Yami Bakura let go and sank into a chair. Bakura looked to him, then crossed the room to busy himself with the stove and the cupboard.

"Are you making it from scratch?" Yami Bakura asked.

Bakura opened the cupboard door. "I'm afraid not," he said. "I don't know how, and anyway, it would take much too long." He brought out a blue-and-white can. "I'm sure this will taste better than anything I could cook."

Yami Bakura gave a tired smirk, resting his right arm on the table. The long walk from Bakura's room and down the stairs had drained him. He was content to be silent now, just observing Bakura while somewhere in the background, the clock ticked out the late-night hour.

"You'll be a zombie at school," he remarked as Bakura poured the contents of the can into a saucepan.

"I won't be going," Bakura said firmly. "It's alright to miss a few days, or however long it takes. I could even have the teachers send the homework here." He turned to look at the exhausted thief with a smile. "I made a promise. I won't break it."

"No," Yami Bakura acknowledged. "You won't." Bakura was a loyal friend, his only friend. And it still amazed Yami Bakura that it was possible, that he, alone for millennia, could have such a devoted ally in a boy whom he had controlled for ages. Bakura should hate him and want nothing to do with him. Yet that was not the case at all.

His vision blurred as he observed the hotplate being turned up. The saucepan was glowing, bubbling. . . . Flames rose from within its depths, lapping at Bakura as the boy cried out in pain and tried to leap away. But some of the blaze had already caught on Bakura's clothes.

Yami Bakura leaped to his feet. "No!" he yelled, all thoughts of his lack of balance forgotten.

But even as he swayed, the scene vanished. There were no flames, no life-threatening danger. Bakura dropped the spoon into the broth, his eyes wide with worry and confusion. "Yami?!" he gasped. "What is it?"

Yami Bakura shook his head, passing a hand over his eyes as he sank back into the chair. No matter how he tried to make-believe everything was alright, he knew it was not. So did Bakura. Displays such as this only further proved it. He really was going mad.

He must have eventually started to doze, his head falling against his arm on the table, because suddenly Bakura was laying his hand on Yami Bakura's other shoulder. "It's done, Yami," he said gently.

Yami Bakura grunted, raising up as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "Where is it?" he mumbled.

"Right there," Bakura said, indicating a mug on the stove. "Do you want to drink it in here or somewhere else?"

Yami Bakura shrugged. He could not care less. But the winter night was cold. It reminded him far too much of being trapped by Yami Marik, vulnerable and freezing, as he was mocked day in and day out. . . .

Bakura smiled. "How about I start a fire and we go in the living room?" he suggested.

"Go right ahead," Yami Bakura answered.

Despite his attempt at indifference, Bakura detected that the thought of a roaring fire appealed greatly to him. He hastened into the living room and set about getting it going. Yami Bakura took up the mug and limped after him, supporting himself on the wall. He eased himself onto the couch, watching Bakura for a moment before taking a sip of the broth.

"How is it?" Bakura asked as he straightened up, admiring the bright flames bursting into being. He shut the safety grate and sat down next to Yami Bakura, who was licking his lips.

"Not bad," he said. "But it could use a more intense flavor of meat."

"Oh Yami. . . ." Bakura shook his head. "Food doesn't always have to revolve around meat!"

"If you're going to use meat in cooking, you should milk it for all it's worth," Yami Bakura said.

He drank slowly, grasping the mug in his hands. The pangs of hunger were attacking in vengeance now, and it was tempting to drink the broth down in several large gulps, but it was much too hot for that. The last thing he wanted was to burn his mouth and his throat. So he forced himself to take small sips, which graduated to large sips and then small gulps.

"Would you like anything else, Yami?" Bakura asked when he finally set the empty tumbler down on the coffee table.

Yami Bakura shrugged. On the one hand, he did. He was starving. But on the other, he was so worn-out he did not know how he would manage to get anything else down before a rest. Yet if he slept, the nightmares would almost certainly come back. And that would not be refreshing at all. He would wake up more ragged than before.

He turned to look at the boy as the firelight danced across his puzzled face. "How do you do it, Bakura?" he said instead.

Bakura blinked. "Do what?" He stared at the other. The red and orange hues cast shadows over the Egyptian's already-mysterious features, somehow making him look even more weary and tired.

Yami Bakura settled back against the couch, resting his head against the top of it as he gazed at the patterns on the ceiling. "How do you exercise such patience and kindness?" he wondered. "I can't. It just isn't who I am."

Bakura watched him, a sad smile creeping back over his features. "Surely you treated your family kindly," he said.

Yami Bakura shrugged. "I was a child then," he said. "I was six years old when they were all murdered. Six years out of over three thousand isn't much to speak of."

Bakura moved closer to him, turning to prop himself up on an elbow. "Well . . . I disagree, Yami," he said. "You've shown me kindness all along . . . though admittedly it wasn't always as frequent in the past. . . . And as for patience, you were very patient with me when I was trying to recover from what the White Death did to us. I was waking up screaming every night for quite some time."

Yami Bakura grunted.

"Yes, you were gruff, but that isn't the same thing as being impatient or unkind." Bakura studied him for any reaction. "It meant a lot to me."

He sighed. "I confess that you aren't always so patient, but who is, all the time? Even I've lost control of myself."

"Hardly ever," Yami Bakura said.

The fire was starting to die out now. Bakura reached for a fleece throw crumpled at one end of the couch, where he had fallen asleep once or twice during the nightmare of not knowing where Yami Bakura was being held. He spread it over them both, now resting his head against the top of the couch too.

"Both a strength and a weakness of yours is that you speak your mind, Yami," he said. "It's a weakness of mine that I can't, much of the time."

Yami Bakura had been studying the throw, but he looked back to Bakura at these words. "It takes a great deal of strength to not speak out if you want to," he said.

"Sometimes it's just lack of courage or lack of wanting to get into a fight," Bakura said. "I'm afraid I don't see it as a strength in those conditions," he chuckled.

"You've stood up to me many times. It's one reason why I respect you." _One of many,_ Yami Bakura added to himself.

Bakura peered at him in surprise. But before he could respond, Yami Bakura went on, his voice dropping.

"Was it very difficult for you, when I was gone?"

Bakura bit his lip. "Yes," he said, averting his gaze. "I was in a panic." He swallowed hard. "Sometimes I had dreams of what was happening to you. And I wanted to run to you and save you from that horrible Yami Marik. I wanted it so badly! But . . . I . . . I didn't know where to go. Marik and Yugi, and even Joey, Tristan, and Téa, tried to help in whatever way they could . . . and we just kept running into dead-ends, over and over." He shook his head. "I was so afraid we'd never find you. At least . . . not in time. . . ."

Yami Bakura turned to better look at him. The exhaustion and the anguish and the pain were all very clear in Bakura's eyes, even in the dim light of the extinguishing fire. But then Bakura managed a smile again.

"Yet we did find you," he said, sounding awed. "And in time."

"Yes," Yami Bakura agreed. "You found me." He doubted he would ever be the same after this. Bakura could never be the same after the White Death incident. But oddly, maybe the boy was right. They had been helping each other through their trials. Neither of them had to be alone any more.

Bah, he was thinking ridiculous thoughts.

. . . But they were comforting ridiculous thoughts.

"You should rest," he growled. "You look like you haven't slept much more than I have."

As if on cue, Bakura suddenly had to try to stifle a yawn. "Oh dear," he mumbled.

"Now you'll give it to me," Yami Bakura complained.

But Bakura was already dozing against the couch. With Yami Bakura safe and for the moment, at peace, he was finally at peace too. A soft smile graced his features as his brown eyes slipped closed.

Yami Bakura grunted. Reaching over, he pulled the throw around Bakura's shoulder as it slipped down. Then he turned onto his side, leaning into the couch as he also began to doze.

Yami Bakura had not seen an end to his horrifying flashbacks and hallucinations, but for the first time in days, both he and Bakura slept peacefully.


	11. Haunted

**Notes: This is the first segment in a while that actually looks like a vignette. I hope it came out okay.**

**Haunted**

**Prompt: Symbol**

_He pushed open the door to the boy's room, peering in at the slumbering form. A smirk passed over his features at the sight. Bakura was not a morning person. He was burrowed under the quilt, turned away from the door._

_"You're going to be late," Yami Bakura remarked as he entered the room._

_Bakura did not stir or even mumble a complaint._

_Yami Bakura frowned a bit. Advancing further into the room, he reached and poked Bakura in the back._

_Still nothing._

_Yami Bakura threw back the comforter. Bakura's long white locks grabbed after it briefly, wild from static cling, but then slipped down his back again. Now it was clear that he was not moving at all. His back and shoulders, which should have been moving up and down as he breathed, were still._

_The thief's heart froze. "Bakura!" he burst out. "What's wrong with you?! Move!" He grabbed hold of the slackened shoulder, turning the teen onto his back. Bakura fell limply into place, pale and lifeless. Just staring into that expression of pain and unrest was enough._

_But Yami Bakura would not accept it. For a moment he trembled, staring, then clutched Bakura's shoulders again. "Wake up!" he screamed, roughly shaking the body. "Wake up, you fool!" He cursed and yelled, all to no avail. At last he released Bakura, sinking to his knees._

_Bakura should have been asleep, but he was not._

_He would never wake up._

Lavender eyes flew open. Their owner gasped, breathing heavily as he took in the darkened room. Nothing seemed out of place or not normal, from what he remembered before. He was kneeling on the couch, the dark-blue fleece throw sliding off his shoulders as he clutched a limp body in his arms. Somehow he had picked the form up in his sleep.

Now he stared down with horrified, bloodshot eyes. "Bakura?!" he cried. Was the boy really . . .

Sleepy brown eyes opened halfway. "Yami . . . ?" Bakura mumbled. "What's wrong?"

Yami Bakura's shoulders slumped in his relief. It was only a dream; Bakura was alive.

"Nothing," he said, gently laying Bakura on the couch so his head was resting on a couch pillow. Then he pulled the throw around his friend. "Go back to sleep."

Bakura wanted to reply, but the pull of slumber was too strong. His eyes dropped closed again.

Yami Bakura sighed quietly to himself, pushing his well-toned body off the couch. It was too strange, being back here after what he had gone through and was still going through. He had thought Bakura being dead was the dream, but what if this was? What if he had not been able to stand it, so he had crafted a fake world where Bakura was still alive? It was just too horrible to find him laying dead, especially when they had hoped that things would gradually get better.

Now he was in reach of the drapes. He grabbed hold of one, pulling it back as he stared into the Domino sky. There were lighter colors on the horizon. Daylight was coming.

A hand rested on his shoulder. "You see, Yami?" Bakura said softly. "This is the promise of the night---no matter how dark it gets, morning always comes."

Yami Bakura jumped a mile. "I thought you were asleep," he grunted.

"It was certainly tempting," Bakura said. "But then I thought of how upset you acted and I came awake again."

Yami Bakura stared out at the increasing light. "What if this is just a fantasy?" he asked. "What if I really am still trapped? Or what if I'm home, but for some reason you've left this world?"

Bakura stared at him, sorrow gathering in his eyes. "It isn't true, Yami," he said. "You're home safe and I'm alive. But . . ." He ran his tongue over his lips. "If something happened like in your nightmares and I was . . . well, gone . . . I wouldn't leave you alone. I couldn't allow even death to get in the way of the promise I made."

A bit of a smirk came over Yami Bakura's features. "No, you wouldn't," he said.

"We'll get through this," Bakura said as the first rays of winter sun began to appear at the edges of the Eastern mountains. He drew his arm around Yami Bakura's shoulders.

Yami Bakura said nothing, instead just gazing at the rising light.

"Do you want anything more to eat, Yami?" Bakura asked then.

Yami Bakura started back to the present. "Maybe," he offered noncommittally.

Bakura nodded. "Let's see what you feel like having, then," he said, turning to head for the kitchen. "Do you need help?"

"I can make it," Yami Bakura growled. He followed slowly, limping after Bakura into the tiled room. Then he stopped, glaring at the far wall.

The half-open basement door, something he had not really noticed last night, was very visible to him in the light of day. Beyond it the darkness seemed endless, stretching downward to cold, unwelcoming rooms. Of course, he knew what was actually at the bottom of the stairs, but logic was not cooperating with his mind. Yami Marik had held him underground, in Hell as far as he was concerned. The harmless basement was a frightening place to him right now.

Bakura blinked, looking to him. "What's wrong, Yami?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Yami Bakura retorted sharply.

But Bakura noticed that he sat as far from the basement door as possible. The British boy followed his gaze, peering into the visible, darkened stairwell. A sad smile came over his features. He suspected at least some of what Yami Bakura was thinking.

"Let's just close this," he said, pushing the door closed with his foot. "It's far too drafty in here with it open."

Yami Bakura just grunted.

****

The basement door remained a bane to Yami Bakura's existence as the days wore on.

Bakura had been right---at least partially, as far as Yami Bakura was concerned. He was gradually healing, sometimes very gradually, but it was still apparent that it was happening.

His appetite and his physical strength were returning. But evenso, he rarely ventured out of the house. He preferred to roam the now-familiar rooms while his thoughts roamed as well. He did not want to associate with anyone else in the city, not yet.

Still, he did have ways to occupy himself. He had been lifting weights some time before his capture, and now he was much more fully throwing himself into keeping up his body-building. He would never let something like this happen again, he vowed. He would make sure that he was strong enough to resist it.

The nightmares and hallucinations were insistent on coming, but they were not as frequent or as intense. Now he rarely woke up screaming, or so involved in the visions that he believed himself to still be taking part in them. Instead, he would start back to awareness in silence, often in a cold sweat, drained and horrified from what he had seen. He would examine Bakura, making sure the boy was still alive and well, and then try to sleep again. Sometimes he would lay awake, staring out at the light from the hall until his vision blurred. Other times he would get up and wander around the house until he grew tired enough to return to bed.

He always made sure to avoid the basement door, on those occasions and every other. It was a dark, ominous blight on his recovery, that door. It was a symbol of his torture below ground, a place he did not want to ever again physically visit.

But, the more rational part of his mind argued, he had not been tortured in the basement. And whether he had or not, if he never faced his fear, how would he ever hope to heal the rest of the way? Bah, he had not healed much at all, if he was afraid of the lower level of their own house!

Bakura had recognized the man's fear too, and had done so right from the start, if shutting the door that first morning was any indication. He understood, but it concerned him. The other day, when he had caught Yami Bakura looking at the entrance to the basement with narrowed eyes, he had quietly said, _"There's nothing down there that will hurt you, Yami."_

Logically, Yami Bakura knew that. And he was growing angry with himself---not just because of that, but because he had been captured in the first place. Because he had fallen prey to Yami Marik's illusions.

Because he had been so weak.

He was determined not to be weak anymore.

He stormed into the kitchen and matter-of-factly hauled open the basement door, staring into the blackness below. He trembled, clenching a fist at his side. He had to go down there and prove to himself that nothing was there. And he could not turn on the light; he would only feel satisfied if he could accomplish this in the dark.

Bakura had needed to go down there the other day, to get some extra food that was in storage. Yami Bakura had lingered at the top of the stairs, waiting for him. He had known the boy was not in danger; otherwise he would have followed him down, no matter what he feared. But when it came to descending for other reasons, reasons that involved only himself, it was a much more difficult decision.

He took a shaking step onto the first stair. So far, nothing. He gripped the banister, easing himself further down.

_"Keh keh keh! Yes, come down. Come, so your torment can continue!"_

He froze, trembling. It was all in his head. He had to believe that. He had to fully immerse himself in the knowledge that it was true. Yami Marik was not waiting in the basement. Even if he was, that would only be more reason to keep going. Yami Bakura could not allow that fiend to get up into the other part of the house and harm Bakura.

He gritted his teeth, advancing down one step, then another. Yami Marik was still laughing; the sound was echoing up and down the stairwell and throughout the basement. But he was not really there; it was all part of his victim's madness.

When Yami Bakura stepped off the bottom stair, he was not sure whether to feel triumph or a vise. He looked around the barely-visible room, his heart racing. "Where are you?" he growled. "Come out and face me!"

"I'm all around you," Yami Marik said. "I'm in the darkness; I've become one with it. And I will drag you in with me!"

Yami Bakura clapped one hand over the other, trying to force the second hand to stop shaking. "You're not real," he said. "I'm only imagining you being here."

"If you really believe that, I succeeded in breaking you even more than I thought," Yami Marik said. "You're no longer able to differentiate between reality and make-believe. You've gone mad!"

"I already know that!" Yami Bakura screamed. "I know I'm mad. You drove me to it!"

"And you're admitting it? Does that mean your pride is gone?" Yami Marik's cruel laugh chilled Yami Bakura's blood.

"No!" Yami Bakura snapped. "Never!" But he paused, frowning. Why had he said it? Was it just further proof that he did not believe Yami Marik was actually there? Was it his own inner anger, feelings that he had to get out somehow?

Was that even why he was imagining Yami Marik's presence---because he needed to have one more encounter with the demon for closure?

Now it felt like a dark, cold breeze was swirling around him. "I'll always be here," Yami Marik said. "I'm not in the basement all the time. I come wherever you are. And when you fear, when you hate, you'll know for sure that I'm right there, haunting you."

"You aren't here," Yami Bakura hissed. "You _aren't!_"

"Keep telling yourself that," Yami Marik sneered. "It makes you feel better, doesn't it?"

Now the darkness began to take shape, materializing into Yami Marik's sneering form. His arms were crossed over his chest, his lavender eyes glittering at the prospect of further tormenting his victim.

"You're not really in Bakura's home, you know," he said. "It's all in your mind. You were never rescued. I let you think it, to even let my illusionary Bakura help you get better, so it would be even more crushing when you returned." The veins popped out over his face. "Didn't you wonder why the basement bothered you so much? Deep down, you knew I was here. You knew that to come back would be to relinquish the fantasies and return to reality. Your reality is here, with me, forevermore!"

Yami Bakura took a step back, shaking. No . . . that was not true. It was not a delusion; Bakura was really there. Bakura had saved him!

But . . . he had thought he had known so many other things, only to discover it was all in his mind. Could this be false too? He had not believed it was real for so long. Sometimes he still had doubts, yet deep down, he really knew it was the truth. Or he had thought he had known. . . .

Yami Marik stepped closer, reaching out a hand in the darkness. His fingers curled around Yami Bakura's throat. "Surrender to the darkness," he hissed. "Become one with it, as you did before!" Then, before Yami Bakura's very eyes, the devil began to transform. His arms and legs grew more muscular, his skin darkened further, his hair vanished as thick horns emerged in its place. Now he was no longer Yami Marik. He was becoming Zorc.

A cry tore from Yami Bakura's lips. "No!" he yelled, fighting to pull the hand away from his throat. "No, I won't go back to what I was then! I'll never go back!"

Zorc's glowing red eyes leered in the blackness of the room. "You don't have a choice!" he said. "It's who you are."

"It's not who I am anymore," Yami Bakura snarled. "I'm my own person. You're not the boss of me!"

"People can't change," Zorc said. "Not really, not after they've fallen to my shadows."

Yami Bakura's eyes burned. "I don't care! I won't fall to you again!" he cried, at last pulling the hand free from his throat. _"I won't!"_

Then, suddenly, they---Zorc, Yami Marik, the pressure on his throat---were all gone. He sank to his knees, trembling as he stared at the carpet he could barely see in front of him. The evil presence was no more, but . . . it had never been there to begin with, had it? Or . . . or what if . . .

"Yami?"

He looked up with a jerk, his eyes wild. Bakura was standing at the top of the stairs, peering down in concern. The boy reached over, flipping on the light. "Whatever are you doing down here?!" he gasped.

Slowly Yami Bakura got up, still quaking as he headed for the stairs. He did not reply, instead glaring at Bakura in suspicion. Was he actually here? Was he real, as Yami Bakura had come to so thoroughly believe? If he could not trust in what had happened over the past days, how could he trust anything?

"Oh my!" Bakura exclaimed in alarm as he drew closer. "Yami, your neck! What happened to your neck?!"

A hand flew to the offending spot. "What do you mean?!" the thief barked.

"It's all red!" Bakura declared.

Yami Bakura's eyes widened. He stormed past Bakura and onto the main floor, then to the bathroom. A quick examination in the mirror proved the teen right---his neck looked like something had taken hold of it.

He gripped the sink, his heart pounding.

Either being here with Bakura was the illusion . . .

. . . Or something really had attacked him downstairs.


	12. Unhealthy

**Notes: Many thanks to Kaze for helping me figure out the stuff concerning the penalty for the charges!**

**Unhealthy**

**Prompt: Addiction**

"Yami, please! We need to talk."

"No!"

"You've gotten so angry lately. It can't be healthy!"

"When have I ever done what was healthy?!"

Bakura took a deep breath, his stomach and his emotions turning over and over, unable to be quelled. He had tried so many times to get Yami Bakura to talk to him after having found him in the basement that day, but the thief always steadfastly refused. Whatever had happened down there, it had started to change him, and not for the better. He had already been growing angry, something that had been concerning Bakura, but now it was ten times worse.

"Please," he said now, "if you could just try to calm down, Yami . . ."

Yami Bakura glowered at him from where he was standing near the back door. "That's easy enough for you to say!" he snapped. He turned, grabbing the doorknob.

Bakura's eyes widened in shock. "Where are you going?!" he demanded. "You haven't been out at all since you've been back!"

"Maybe I have!" Yami Bakura answered. "Don't worry, I'll be back." And with that he stormed out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

Bakura stared after him, a blank numbness spreading over his awareness. Yami Bakura had walked out, just like that. . . .

He shook himself out of his daze. How could Yami Bakura have gone out at other times, without Bakura knowing? The only possible time would have been when he was asleep, since he had still not returned to school.

He trembled, bringing a hand to his mouth. Could Yami Bakura have really kept leaving in the middle of the night? Why wouldn't Bakura have woke up at least once?

_Yami was a thief. Of course,_ he thought to himself. _He knows how to be perfectly quiet._

He sank bank against the wall, the turmoil in his heart and soul only growing. "I thought you were getting better, Yami," he said aloud, the despairing quake in his voice all too audible. "What happened to you in the basement?" He shook his head. "I don't know how to help you anymore. I really don't."

The sound of an engine roaring to life jerked him back to attention. His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "What on earth?!" he gasped. "No, it couldn't be. . . ."

He pushed himself away from the wall, staring at the keyrack. The keys for the van in the garage were missing. And then, there it was, flying past the kitchen window.

Bakura went pale, running over for a better look. The vehicle screeched out of the driveway and onto the road, barely swerving in time to miss a lamppost. The poor boy's stomach dropped to his knees.

"Yami!" he screamed, of course in vain. "You don't know how to drive! You don't even have a license!"

Dizzy with fear and worry, he ran to the telephone in the living room. His fingers were shaking so hard he could scarcely dial, but at last he heard the welcome ring. He brought the receiver to his ear.

_Click._ "Hello?"

"Marik, please help me!" Bakura blurted. "Yami has taken the van!"

_"WHAT?!"_ Marik cried in disbelief.

"It's a long and confusing story that I don't understand at all," Bakura said. "Just please, come quickly! I have to catch up to him before he hurts someone . . . or himself, even!"

"That fool!" Marik exclaimed in disgust. "Alright, I can be there in five minutes. Do you have an aversion to riding a motorcycle?"

"I've never ridden one in my life," Bakura said. "But right now I don't care! Please bring it!"

"Be ready to hop on as soon as I come," Marik advised, and hung up.

Bakura let the receiver drop into the cradle, his trembling hand running into his bangs. "Please protect him," he prayed in desperation. "And everyone who might be in his path!"

He turned, heading for the door. "Oh Yami, whatever has gotten into you?!" he wailed.

His voice lowered. "And why can't I help you anymore?" he whispered.

****

_A dark chuckle met his ears as he bent over the sink, splashing water in his face. He stiffened, the last droplets of water slipping from his hands to drip back into the basin. "No," he choked out. Not again. __**Not again!**_

_He was never free. Though Yami Marik had haunted him before his foray into the basement, it had become far worse since then. The cruel laughter followed him everywhere; he could never run far enough to escape it. But that did not stop him from trying._

_He was not sure why he had decided to take Bakura's father's van that first time, late at night. Maybe because he knew how fast cars could go and he thought that if anything could help him elude Yami Marik, a modern vehicle could. Maybe just because he was desperate. And he had liked driving, despite only knowing a few pointers from watching other drivers, including Bakura. But it had not helped him escape. The more he tried, the more Yami Marik retaliated, and the more angry and desperate he became._

_Was he mad? Was Yami Marik really there? He did not know anymore._

_He straightened, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, the heavy half-circles under them testifying to his lack of decent sleep. He was pale and haggard from his diminishing appetite. He could find no peace._

_And then his reflection pulsed, shifting and morphing as it changed into that of Yami Marik's. The demon sneered at him from the glass, reaching out a hand to take hold of his jaw._

_He was at the end of his endurance. Snatching a half-empty bottle of shampoo, he heaved it directly at the mirror. Without waiting to see if it impacted, he fled._

_He had wanted to run again, to try to get away from the devil, but Bakura had stopped him right then. Not wanting to even try to explain what must be him going insane, he had left._

_If he had truly believed Yami Marik was actually there, he would have dragged Bakura with him._

Yami Bakura clenched his teeth as he zipped around the next corner, his tanned hands clutching the steering wheel in a deathgrip. He had not meant to lose his temper with Bakura. He had just wanted to flee the house and his madness, though he knew he never really could. But he could not give up.

He would make it up to the boy when he got back. He intended to drive until he at least got out all of his anger and rage. But it was worse this time than others.

"Get out of the way!" he screamed, pounding on the horn as a pedestrian stopped on the crosswalk and stared at him in shock. When it became apparent that he was not going to slow or even stop, the person scrambled out of the way. The van barreled past, the right front wheel riding on the sidewalk for several slabs of concrete before falling back to the road.

He swerved to the left, barely avoiding a car coming from the other direction. He shook a fist at the stunned driver, cursing him for getting in the way, before speeding around the curb.

Nothing and no one was safe from the raging madman. Stop-signs, mailboxes, and parking meters were in the gravest danger. It was no surprise that before long came the wail of a siren and flashing lights reflected in the mirror.

Yami Bakura swore. He had driven right to a dead-end in the road; there was nowhere to go. He slammed on the brakes, then sat fuming as the officer got out of the car and walked over to the window.

It was only when he was asked for the car's registration papers and his driver's license that he started to realize this could be very bad.

****

It was easy to follow the trail of destruction. Bakura was horrified. Angry, bewildered people were all too willing to tell him and Marik of the reckless driver that had roared past, nearly running them down. Cones set up to block people from entering construction zones were overturned and rolling in all directions. A _Road Closed_ sign was completely upsidedown, its feet waving in the air.

Bakura slapped his forehead. "What could have gotten into him?!" he cried.

Marik shook his head. "I knew he was a risk-taker, but even I wasn't expecting this," he said.

It was when they were climbing back onto the motorcycle that Bakura's phone rang. Blinking in surprise, he pulled it out of his back pocket, while still holding onto Marik for balance, and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

Yami Bakura's sullen voice answered him. "Get me out."

Bakura nearly fell off the vehicle. "Yami?!" he burst out. Marik stiffened. "Where are you?"

"At the 53rd precinct," Yami Bakura growled.

It took a moment for that to register. "You're in jail?!" Bakura yelped.

"They think I stole your car," Yami Bakura said. "You're supposed to come prove that I'm your 'cousin'."

The pent-up emotions from the past days and weeks boiled over. "Well, you aren't my cousin, are you?!" Bakura snapped. "And technically, you did steal the car! I thought you just being angry was unhealthy, but this . . . ! What were you _thinking?!_"

There was a long silence. "I don't have to explain myself with them breathing down my neck," the Egyptian said.

"And what makes you think I'll bail you out?!" Bakura retorted. "You can't always take me for granted!"

Marik, overhearing the conversation, frowned as he half-turned on the motorcycle. "Bakura . . ."

Yami Bakura never answered. There was a loud click as he hung up.

Bakura flinched, the sound seeming to bring him back to himself. "Yami . . ." he whispered. He stared dumbly at the phone, as if not believing either the click or his words. "I . . . I can't imagine what came over me. . . ."

"You've been hurting too," Marik said quietly. "It has to come out somehow."

Bakura shook his head. "I . . . I was so angry. But . . . I was angry because I was afraid his stupidity was going to get him hurt. And now _I've_ hurt him!" He looked at Marik, stricken. "After everything he went through, seeing all those horrid illusions and thinking they were real. . . . What have I done?! Oh, what have I done?!"

Marik sighed, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go get him," he said. "The two of you can sort it out." At least, he prayed they could. He was not sure himself what level of damage Bakura's angry words were going to cause.

Bakura gave a numb nod, his hands shaking as he stuck his phone back in his pocket and reached for the helmet.

****

Gabrielle Valesquez looked up as the British teen ran into the police station fifteen minutes later. Inexplicable relief filled Bakura's eyes to see the officer who had helped Yugi and the others on so many strange misadventures in the past.

Gabrielle quirked an eyebrow. "So, you do know that foolish man," she remarked. The look in Bakura's eyes said it all.

In the holding cell behind her, Yami Bakura dared to look up. The mixture of resignation and hopelessness in his eyes stabbed Bakura right in the heart. But as they locked eyes, disbelief began to replace both emotions. He could not comprehend that Bakura had come to rescue him, not after their telephone conversation.

"Y-Yes," Bakura stammered, looking back to Gabrielle. "Yes, I do. He's . . . he's very dear to me."

Gabrielle nodded, looking down at a file on the desk. "He's in a lot of trouble," she said. "Stealing a car, reckless driving, endangerment, driving without a license. . . ." She leaned back. "He's lucky he wasn't driving under the influence, too."

Marik, who was entering after securing his motorcycle, looked to Bakura. What would he do? Yami Bakura needed help, and he needed it now---but could Bakura give it?

Bakura took a deep breath. "The car belongs to the family," he said. "He didn't steal it."

Yami Bakura stared at him.

Gabrielle looked surprised too. "The two of you really don't look alike," she said.

"He's . . ." Bakura gave a weak smile. "He's a distant cousin from Egypt."

At last Gabrielle nodded again. "Alright, we'll drop the stealing charge," she said. "But there's still the rest. Under state law, it will probably come to a Class A Misdemeanor."

"Oh my." Bakura was not quite sure what that was, but he was also not sure he dared to know. Gabrielle sounded grave as she talked about it. He shifted, running his tongue over his lips. "But . . . well . . . Officer Valesquez, you know me. And . . . this is his first offense. . . ." He wrung his hands. "No one was hurt. . . . If I could promise it won't happen again. . . ."

She raised an eyebrow at him again. "You're asking for me to drop all the charges?" she said.

Bakura nodded. "I . . . well, there's extenuating circumstances," he stammered. "I know it's not an excuse for what he did . . ."

Gabrielle sighed. "If you post the bail money, I'll see what I can do," she said. "I know the District Attorney. He owes me a favor, if I can twist his arm enough to make him cough it up. If you're lucky, he'll just make you pay a fine and have your cousin take a driving course. But you'd better keep him away from all steering wheels in the meantime!" She pointed a forefinger at him in emphasis. "If I can do anything, it can only be for this one time!"

Bakura went red. "Yes, of course," he said. He dug into his pocket for his wallet.

Marik stepped forward. "I'll help you pay the bail money," he offered.

Bakura blinked, looking to him in surprise. "Marik . . ."

The blond looked back, his eyes grim. "In the end, we both know whose fault this really was," he said. "I want to do my part to make up for what he did."

"You've already done so much," Bakura said.

"I don't think I could ever do enough," Marik muttered.

Five minutes later, Gabrielle had counted out the money and was opening the holding cell's door. "Come on," she said, gesturing to the silent Yami Bakura. "You're free to go. Your friends paid for you."

Slowly the thief shuffled out of the cell. Bakura ran over, looking him up and down with heartbroken eyes. "Yami, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I don't deserve forgiveness, but . . ."

"_You_ don't?" Yami Bakura grunted, looking uncomfortable. "Let's get out of here," he said then.

Bakura nodded. "Of course," he said. He did not really want to talk in here, either.

They stepped out of the police station and into the late winter afternoon. The day was mostly overcast, a light snow beginning to fall. Marik looked up at it as he dug the keys to his motorcycle out of his pocket. Hopefully it would not get too bad before he could make it home.

"There isn't room for three," he said apologetically as they went down the stairs. "I don't have the sidecar attached right now."

"And the van's impounded until Officer Valesquez speaks to the District Attorney, I think," Bakura said.

"We'll walk back," Yami Bakura said, still seeming subdued.

Bakura blinked. "Are you sure, Yami?" he asked.

Yami Bakura nodded. He shifted, hesitating, still obviously uncomfortable. As his gaze went to Marik, the other Egyptian just crossed his arms, half in amusement.

"You can thank me," he said, "but you don't have to. Just _try_ to stay out of trouble."

Yami Bakura growled low. "I'll find a way to repay you," he said at last. "I take care of my debts."

"I'm the one with a debt to pay," Marik said as he turned away. "It was the being I created who tormented you so badly." He climbed onto his motorcycle, grabbing his helmet. As he revved the engine, Bakura waved.

"Thank you, Marik!" he called. "So much. . . ."

Marik looked to him and nodded. Then he drove away, leaving the two standing on the whitening sidewalk.

Yami Bakura turned, starting to walk over the snow and concrete. Bakura followed, hurrying to catch up and walk alongside.

Yami Bakura did not look up. ". . . I didn't think you'd come," he said.

The lump returned to Bakura's throat. "I'm so sorry, Yami," he said again. "I . . . I didn't mean it. I really didn't, but that doesn't matter. The damage has already been done; I can't take it back." His shoulders slumped. "I've been so agonized, not knowing how to help you as you've grown more and more infuriated these past days. And today, I was so confused when you barreled down the stairs and left without explaining what had happened or why you were so angry. . . . When I heard the van starting . . ." He looked to the other. "I was so panic-stricken I wasn't thinking clearly. I just knew I had to get you back before something terrible happened."

". . . I didn't mean to snap at you, either," Yami Bakura said. He ran a hand into his hair. "I haven't wanted to admit what's going on because it looks like I'm going mad. I don't know which is worse---the thought that I've lost my mind again or the thought that I haven't and what I've been seeing is real."

Bakura looked at his friend questioningly. "Yami . . . what happened in the basement?" he asked.

For a long moment Yami Bakura was silent. ". . . _He_ was down there," he said. "Or was he? I don't know at all. Eventually he turned into Zorc. But when I fought against him, I was left alone. I would have thought it was a hallucination if not for the marks on my neck."

Bakura gasped. Before he could reply, Yami Bakura resumed his narration.

"Since then I've felt more than ever that Yami Marik is haunting me," he said. "I hear him laughing almost constantly. Today I saw his reflection in the mirror, reaching out to grab me. I threw a bottle of shampoo at it and ran out."

"And you took the van," Bakura realized.

"I was desperate to get away," Yami Bakura said. "I feel like I must be going out of my mind. I've even wondered if I myself put the marks on my neck. I've tried to think of every possible explanation other than that Yami Marik is actually here."

"Oh Yami. . . ." Bakura felt worse than ever. "And after all that, I betrayed you when you called me for help. . . ."

"I treated you unkind after everything you've done for me," Yami Bakura said. "We were both under stress." Finally he looked up. "I'm sorry."

Bakura stopped walking, looking at him in stunned surprise. In all the time they had known each other, he did not remember Yami Bakura ever outright apologizing for anything. He had come close to it during the White Death fiasco, but to Bakura's knowledge he had not actually said he was sorry.

"Yami . . ." But he trailed off. The words would not come.

"If you're willing to forgive an old fool like me---_again_---let's call it even and move on." Yami Bakura had stopped too, looking back at his descendant. His eyes were tired, so very tired, and weighed down with the burdens he had been piling on himself. Looking into those eyes, he no longer looked twenty-one. Three millennia worth of pain had gathered there. The sight was haunting.

Shaken, Bakura still tried to weakly smile. "Of course I forgive you," he said. "And you forgive me, Yami?"

A weary nod. "Yes."

Bakura hesitated, then drew his arm across Yami Bakura's shoulders. "We'll go home, Yami, and we'll figure out what's going on," he said in determination. "If Yami Marik is there somehow, we'll find a way to get rid of him. And . . ." He trailed off, not wanting to voice the other possibility. "If . . ."

"If I'm quite insane, what's there to do but have me committed?" Yami Bakura finished.

Bakura stared at him in horror. "No!" he burst out. "Never." He shook his head, turning to look up at the still-falling snow. "I don't believe you are mad, Yami. But whether you are or not, you can be helped without such drastic measures being taken. My promise still stands---I'll be here for you through all of it."

"You'll miss a lot more school," Yami Bakura pointed out.

"I don't care!" Bakura said. "This is more important."

Yami Bakura was silent as they walked. Evening was drawing nigh now; streetlights and porch lights were coming on. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

And the two of them were walking home. Still together, not alone.

So quiet that Bakura was not sure he heard correctly, came words spoken in the oncoming darkness.

"Thank you, Bakura."

Bakura smiled.


	13. Healing

**Notes: Thanks to Lisa and Northeastwind for brainstorming with me on this chapter! I had a time of it figuring out how to use the prompt, but though it isn't much, it fully inspired the paragraph where it's used, so hopefully it counts.**

**Healing**

**Prompt: Conspiracy**

The house was in darkness when they returned. It showed no signs of anyone being inside, but Yami Bakura tensed as he and Bakura ascended the steps to the porch. There was no telling what they would find. Yami Marik could be waiting for them in the shadows, ready to attack. Or maybe Yami Bakura would think it was happening, but it actually would not be.

Bakura looked to him as he got out the keys. "Are you alright, Yami?" he asked, unlocking the door.

Yami Bakura grunted and shrugged. He peered into the living room as Bakura eased the door open, taking note of every nook and cranny. Could Yami Marik be hiding behind the chair? The couch? Maybe he was waiting behind the floor-length drapes. Everything looked peaceful, but could it really be so?

Bakura turned on the light and stepped inside the entryway, then looked to his friend. "It's alright, Yami," he said. "He's not in this room, at least."

Yami Bakura glowered at the room anyway. "You never know," he said. "He would probably figure out where the light would touch and find a hiding place that would still be in the dark." He walked inside, then watched as Bakura shut and locked the door after him.

"Well . . ." Bakura gave a weak smile. "He was supposed to be in the upstairs bathroom, wasn't he? Maybe we should look there first." He took a step towards the stairs.

A hand shot out, grabbing hold of his upper arm. He blinked, turning to look at Yami Bakura. The man's expression was set; he did not intend to let Bakura go ahead of him, no matter how terrified he was of meeting Yami Marik again. He moved out, walking to the stairs as he glared at them. Then he placed his foot on the first step, taking hold of the banister at the same time.

Bakura followed, getting on Yami Bakura's right side as he also stepped onto the first stair. "We'll go up together," he said.

Yami Bakura looked at him. He did not like the idea of Bakura coming, just in case Yami Marik really was there, but deep down he was really quite sure that they would not find the demon. And if Yami Marik was here, and Bakura stayed behind, that could be potentially dangerous too. At last he growled and looked away, ascending the stairs in determination. Bakura stayed right with him, arriving at the top only a split-second after he did.

Yami Bakura turned to the left, his eyes boring into the darkened bathroom. Bakura switched on the upstairs hall light, sending enough beams into the room that it was clearly shown to be empty.

Yami Bakura was not convinced. He stormed over, turning on the bathroom light.

The bottle of shampoo was in the sink, where it had landed after striking the now-cracked mirror. There was nothing visible in the glass now other than his own reflection. And Yami Marik was not hiding in the bathtub, either. If he had ever been there, he was gone.

Bakura's reflection appeared in the mirror beside Yami Bakura. He grunted, meeting Bakura's gaze in the glass. "Nothing," he said. Abruptly he turned, his robe sweeping out around him. "Let's search the entire house."

Bakura nodded, quite agreeable to that. But as he followed Yami Bakura out, he could not help but ask, "The basement too, Yami?"

Yami Bakura froze. "Yes," he said at last, his voice taut. "The basement too."

But it was saved for the very last. After they thoroughly searched both upstairs and the main floor without success, Yami Bakura forced himself to go to the dreaded door in the kitchen. He hauled it open, then stared blankly into the darkness. What was lurking down there this time? Yami Marik? Zorc? Had _they_ merged? Or could they just be conspiring to torture him?

No, Zorc was gone.

Yet . . . Yami Marik should have ceased to exist too.

"Yami?"

He started. He was still standing at the top, not having accomplished a thing. Bakura was looking at him in concern.

"I could go down and look, Yami," the boy offered, though he knew Yami Bakura would never accept that.

Sure enough, Yami Bakura stiffened. "No!" he snapped. "I'll go." Flipping on the light, he started with resolve down the stairs. Worried, Bakura immediately followed.

There was nothing waiting at the bottom. As the other lights were turned on, a perfectly peaceful, normal basement was revealed, the rooms exactly as Yami Bakura remembered from before any of this had befallen him. By the time they finished searching everywhere and returned to the family room, Yami Bakura felt foolish, exhausted, and aggravated.

"He's doing this to mock me," he said, sinking down on the couch and running his hands into his hair. "If he was ever here at all. Maybe it is only in my mind."

Bakura sat down next to him, not knowing what to say. He bit his lip, racking his mind for a good response.

"He made me think so many things were happening, only to show me later that they weren't . . . or so I thought." Yami Bakura stared at the floor, not really seeing it. After the events of that day, he also felt like his tongue was being loosened. It was finally time; he needed to get the heartache and anguish he had been carrying off of his chest. "He made me think I'd been torn apart by a pack of wild beasts once. Then it was that they had killed and devoured you."

Bakura started and turned to stare at him, his eyes wide. "Yami," he uttered in horror.

"Sometimes you came to rescue me," Yami Bakura said, speaking in a numb, matter-of-fact tone. "Once, Yami Marik captured and tortured you almost to death. You died in my arms.

"Another time you actually got me out, but then betrayed me."

Bakura stiffened, the color draining from his face. "I betrayed you?" he gasped.

A mechanical nod. "You pushed me to the ground and started kicking me." The muscular shoulders rose and fell. "I just let it happen; the fight had left me by that point."

Tears filled Bakura's eyes. "You probably looked like you did after I betrayed you on the phone," he said. "When we came to the station and I saw you, Yami . . . I was horrified. You _did_ look like the fight had left you . . . like you had resigned yourself to your fate and figured it would never get better."

Yami Bakura grunted. "I deserved it," he said.

"No!" Bakura cried emphatically. "No, Yami, you didn't! You'd been through so much, and were still going through so much, and you . . . you were probably counting on me to be there for you, unlike in your vision. . . ."

". . . I wanted it, yes," Yami Bakura said. "I longed for it . . . and yet when the stress kept building and I felt like I was losing my mind, I pushed you away more and more. I was a hypocrite! You were right, Bakura---I was taking you for granted, believing that you could stand to be with me through all of my changing moods and my rage. But _I_ couldn't have stood it. It was cruel of me to expect it from you."

"Yami, you haven't been well," Bakura protested, moving closer to him. "When you're sick, it's so much harder to think of things like that. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you, Yami. I'm so sorry."

"You're too good to me, Bakura," Yami Bakura said then. The weariness was very evident in his voice. He sighed, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

". . . Sometimes he made me think he was tearing into my flesh with the Eon Spear," he said. "I don't know how he knew about it, but he did, even before the mind probe. . . ."

Bakura had been about to reply when this last statement stunned him even more. "Mind probe?!" he burst out. Yami Bakura's tale was getting more terrible with every sentence!

Yami Bakura gave a tired nod. "He tortured me with all manner of hallucinations until he was able to overpower me and see into my mind," he said. "He then used that knowledge to make the delusions far worse." He paused. "He made me relive Kul Elna. . . ."

"No!" Bakura's heart twisted in anguish for his friend. "All of it?!"

"It was as if I'd been sent into the past," Yami Bakura said. "I tried to change what happened, but I failed. I watched my family be pushed into the molten lava." He turned to look at the boy, his lavender eyes aching. "I watched them throw you in."

"Me?!" Bakura stared. "I was there?!"

Yami Bakura nodded. "You were the final sacrifice," he said. "In my delusion, two children escaped their fate and I was glad . . . but not when I saw who the guards had to replace the runaways."

"Two?" Bakura blinked.

"Amunet was the other," Yami Bakura said. "She was sacrificed in the real massacre, but I didn't actually see it happen then." He could feel Bakura's puzzled gaze on him. He pretended not to see, instead continuing to look at the very average ceiling as if it was truly fascinating.

"She was my sister."

Bakura had not thought he could be any more surprised. Suddenly he felt an even deeper kinship with the thief, for them to have both lost sisters. At the same time, his heart contorted even worse. "You had a sister, Yami?" he said at last.

"She looked a lot like your Amane, judging from the pictures I've seen of her," Yami Bakura said. "She was innocent and kind, always thinking well of everyone. And she had a curious streak." The trace of a smirk came over his features. "She drove my mother mad with her excursions."

His eyes clouded over with anger and hate. "She was four years old," he said, sitting up straight on the couch again. "_Four years old,_ and they murdered her in cold blood! For all I know, I was wearing what was left of her body around my neck. Or Yugi Muto was. _Someone_ was." He clenched his teeth and a fist. "I'll never forgive them. _Never._"

Bakura was openly weeping now. "Oh Yami. . . ." He shook his head. "They don't deserve forgiveness. If Amane had been so deliberately and brutally murdered like that, I . . . I know I could never forgive, either. But . . ." He laid a hand on Yami Bakura's shoulder. "I don't like to see it eating you up inside. It's so easy to hate, to feel anger, and in a situation like that, it's so completely justified.

"When I felt hate towards you in the past, it started consuming me. When I finally realized what I was doing, I was terrified. I was afraid I would end up only being hateful towards everything and feeling nothing else at all. And I couldn't bear that." Slowly he reached out, drawing the thief into his arms.

Yami Bakura was silent, so tired as he let the boy embrace him. "That was how I behaved in Egypt," he said. "You would have been horrified if you had seen me then, Bakura. And Zorc only made everything worse."

"But you've proven that you're still capable of feeling other emotions," Bakura said softly. "There's so much in life that you never had the chance to experience. And other things you had but then lost, never to find again. If I could, I'd give them all back to you. I wish I had that power. . . ." He held the man close, staring sadly at the opposite wall.

". . . Maybe," he said then, "_you_ have that power, Yami."

"What?" Yami Bakura scoffed.

Bakura looked to him. "You're being given this second chance," he explained. "If you're able to fully use it, then perhaps when . . . when you do go on to the afterlife, you'll see them again." He swallowed hard. "It's so selfish of me that I hope that won't be for a long time yet. . . ." he whispered.

Yami Bakura turned to fully look at the teen. Bakura's eyes were sincere and sorrowful and guilt-stricken.

"Don't," Yami Bakura growled. "You're the first person in three thousand years who has cared whether I live or die. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Anyway . . . I don't have any intention of leaving any time soon. You're stuck with me."

Bakura managed a smile. "I'm glad," he said. He leaned back into the couch with the Egyptian.

Yami Bakura sighed, resting his head against the plush couch. ". . . I used to fantasize about being free," he said at last. "They weren't always hallucinations induced by Yami Marik. . . . Sometimes they were dreams or visions. But they always ended. I always found myself still trapped. I was only down there for . . . what was it, you said? A week and a half?" Bakura nodded. "It felt like . . ." He growled. "I don't know what. Longer than that."

He looked away. "It makes me feel so weak, Bakura . . . that only a week and a half reduced me to this. Me, the feared King of Thieves! He broke me down just like he said he would."

"That isn't true!" Bakura exclaimed firmly. He propped himself up on the couch. "Yami, you're coming back to yourself. He tried to break you, but he didn't and couldn't. Your fighting spirit is much too strong for him!"

Yami Bakura was silent, pondering that for a moment. "He shouldn't have succeeded in any way," he said. "I shouldn't have fallen prey to his mind games."

Bakura stared at him, his eyes sad. "No one could have come from something like that completely unscathed," he said. "Yami, you fought him so hard, but he knew what would torment you so badly that you would believe it was true in spite of yourself. And don't tell me you're weak for caring!" he hurried on. An equally sad smile came over his features. "I've told you that isn't weakness, Yami. It's strength."

"I'm still trying to work out the logic of that," Yami Bakura said. "Caring only brings suffering in the end. Everyone goes sooner or later, and then you're left all alone, with just your memories."

"It takes courage to love again, after going through so much pain," Bakura said. "And when you're with someone else, you can do so much more than you could do on your own!"

Yami Bakura glowered at the couch. He could not have made it as far as he had without Bakura's help. He knew that. But inspite of his thankfulness for his friend, he could not help feeling weak that he had not been able to recover on his own. He had been completely alone after the Kul Elna massacre, struggling to survive. . . .

Or had he? What about the spirits of the murdered? They had been there, whenever he had visited the Millennium Tablet. And then there had been Diabound . . . and later, Zorc. . . . Not that Zorc had ever tried to help him or keep him company. But Zorc had definitely been around.

He had never really been alone, had he?

"Perhaps you're right," he relented. "In any case, I could not have gotten better as much as I have without you, Bakura. I'm coming back to myself, but only because of you." He growled. "But it still makes me infuriated that _he_ did this to me."

"You're better than him, Yami," Bakura said. "You always will be. All he wants is to hurt people. And . . . well, I guess you've wanted that too . . . but what you really wanted was justice, wasn't it, Yami?"

"Justice," Yami Bakura repeated. "Does it even exist in this world?"

"Not always, I suppose," Bakura said. "But I believe it does in the life afterwards. Everyone who participated in the Kul Elna massacre will have to pay somehow."

"And I'll have to pay for my crimes, as well," Yami Bakura said.

Bakura nodded. "I don't know," he mused, "I wonder if possibly your second chance might be a way for you to try to make amends. I mean . . . they want you for a future battle between good and evil, and to fully gain your second chance, you need to fight on the side of good. . . ."

"It's not so black and white as all that," Yami Bakura said. "Many people who commit crimes think they're doing good---or at least, that they're justified because of greater evils that they're fighting against. I still believe that just because you're following someone's idea of good, it doesn't necessarily make _you_ good."

"Well, yes . . ." Bakura shook his head. "Oh dear, I can't think about it too long; it makes my head hurt."

Yami Bakura smirked. "I had many years to think about it," he said, and sobered. "My days were filled with striving to survive, learning to steal, and wondering why such a thing had happened to my village. As far as I was concerned, the 'great' Pharaoh and his court were all hypocrites."

"Yugi said the Pharaoh never even knew," Bakura said.

"I didn't know that," Yami Bakura said. "And by the time his son came to power, I'm not sure I would have cared had I known. I just wanted someone to pay for what had happened."

Bakura was silent for a moment. "You've had a hard, sad life, Yami," he said then. "I was hoping it would be better for you now. . . ."

Yami Bakura looked up at him. "It is," he said. "In spite of everything, it is."

Bakura blinked in surprise. A slow, peaceful smile came over his features. He settled further into the couch, just enjoying the quietness of the moment.

It was some time after that when Yami Bakura fell asleep, his head resting on Bakura's shoulder. Bakura was half-asleep by that point himself, exhausted from the long day. He yawned, resting his cheek in the wild hair as he dozed as well.

This time, there were no foul dreams throughout the rest of the night.


	14. Only Time

**Notes: The previous part is very important to this fic. So important that I went back and wrote it even though I was going to skip directly to this one. Sorry for the misunderstanding; if one refers to the note on that chapter, they will see I was talking about how the prompt "Conspiracy" did not fit the chapter as a whole.**

**And thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! This has been a wild ride. Horror never really was my forté, but Yami Marik suits it so well. I hope you'll stick with me through the next stories!**

**Only Time**

**Prompt: Time**

His stomach rumbled with impatience as he sank onto the couch with a chicken drumstick. The warmth, the smell, the promise of meat . . . it was all so tantalizing. Looking at it greedily, he tore into it with canine teeth bared. Most actually went into his mouth, but a few crumbs slipped free and made their way down his jaw. He attacked them with his tongue.

"I'm glad I don't have to clean up after you."

He grunted and looked up at Marik, who was suddenly standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms. "How did you get in?" he asked through a mouthful of poultry.

"Through the door," Marik said half-sarcastically, gesturing at the front door with a thumb. "Bakura said you were in here. He's shoveling the results of our current snowstorm, in case you didn't know."

"I know," Yami Bakura retorted. He had said he would join Bakura after eating the drumstick, despite his dislike of the cold. But there was no need to tell Marik that, as far as he was concerned.

"Have it your way," Marik shrugged. "You seem to be doing better."

"I suppose." Yami Bakura chomped into the chicken again, prompting Marik to look away in disgust. Not only were the thief's manners atrocious for anyone to view, but Marik did not like meat.

"You know, if you're planning to stay in that form, you should find some modern clothes in your size and style," Marik said to the wall.

"You like stating the obvious, don't you, Marik." Yami Bakura glanced down at himself. "I'll be taking care of that soon."

"Somehow I don't think any variation of Bakura's blue-striped shirt will look good on you now," Marik said, finally turning back to face him.

"It would look ridiculous, like I was some old sailor or pirate," Yami Bakura growled. "It's not even a consideration." He smirked. "I want something that better shows off my physique."

Marik eyed the open robe. "I should have known," he said, only half-dryly.

He sighed. "Have you heard back from Officer Valesquez about the District Attorney's decision?" he asked.

"We're to pay a fine for damages," Yami Bakura grunted, "but there really weren't any, just a few overturned construction devices. And I'm supposed to take a driving course."

"I don't think I want you on the road even with a license," Marik said.

Yami Bakura sneered. "Bakura has been concerned, too," he said. "But you'll both have to deal with it. I find I enjoy driving. I have no intention of not doing a lot of it."

"Ra help us," Marik muttered.

He lingered a bit longer before going back outside, leaving Yami Bakura to finish the drumstick in silence. The hungry man bit into it again, savoring the taste of the meat. In the back of his mind he could hear the sound of the snow shovel scraping the sidewalk, but he was too focused on other matters to think much about it.

It surprised him a bit, that Marik had come to talk to him. But, he supposed, it should not---not after Marik had felt responsible because of his Yami and had even helped Bakura pay the bail money.

Anyway, Bakura had told him something much more shocking a few days ago, when he had been telling Bakura some of the other torture he had undergone. His eyes narrowed as he remembered.

_"Yami?"_

_He looked up in surprise at the boy's hesitant voice. Bakura looked so unsettled._

_"What is it?" he frowned._

_". . . Do you remember the first night you opened up, when you mentioned how Yami Marik made you . . ." He shifted. "He made you think you were being attacked by wild beasts?"_

_Yami Bakura regarded him in a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "What's your point?" he asked._

_Bakura ran his tongue over his lips. "Well . . ." He looked down. "I . . . sort of . . . knew about that part. . . ."_

_"What are you talking about?!" Yami Bakura demanded in disbelief. "How could you possibly know?!"_

_The boy looked up again. "I saw that in a dream," he said. "Then I came to and found you'd been taken. I went to Yugi for help, and . . ." He shifted, unsure how Yami Bakura was going to take this news. "We discovered Atem had sent me that dream, to let me know what kind of horrible trouble you were in. He told Yugi there was still a chance to save you, but we had to hurry."_

_Yami Bakura was just staring at him in complete shock. For a moment he could not even think what to say. "The Pharaoh?!" he burst out at last. "The Pharaoh did that?!"_

_Bakura flinched. "Yes, Yami," he said._

_  
"Why?!" Yami Bakura persisted._

_Bakura gave a helpless shrug. "He didn't want you to suffer," he said. A weak smile came over his features. "You see, Yami, despite the fact that you've been enemies for three thousand years, he hasn't let any ill feelings for you get in the way of doing what's right."_

_Yami Bakura grunted and looked away. That was too much to process right now._

And it still was. He did not know what to make of it at all. It kept bothering him, too, even when he tried to push the thoughts away. Someday, he vowed, he would see the Pharaoh again and he would find out directly why his nemesis had intervened in his plight. . . .

Was that a wild-haired man with a cruel grin reflected in the window?! He whirled to look, his heart gathering speed. No . . . no one was there. He slumped back against the couch, his expression twisted in frustration.

Even now, he often still heard Yami Marik laughing and thought he caught glimpses of the madman out of the corner of his eye. Despite his best efforts, nothing conclusive had been proved. Bakura could never hear or see him, but as far as Yami Bakura was concerned, the wretch would be able to make sure that only his victim would be aware of his presence.

If it was really him and not Yami Bakura having lost his mind, then Yami Marik had not likely anticipated this new twist---Yami Bakura had discovered a new sense of purpose and increased strength and resolve. And over time, he had decided to completely ignore Yami Marik---something he had tried before but had failed to do, in his distraught condition. Somehow, the fact that Bakura now knew what was happening with Yami Marik's supposed appearances made it easier to handle. And gradually at first but much more noticeably now, Yami Marik was bothering him less and less. The fact that he would not respond or lose his temper was likely making the demon bored and annoyed.

_"Ah, wasn't that touching,"_ Yami Marik sneered now, speaking from an unknown location. _"My creator coming to visit you, someone he doesn't even like."_

Yami Bakura gnawed on the chicken bone, wanting to get every last morsel of meat. "So?" he grunted, deciding not to appear ruffled at the sudden voice.

_"Oh, so you're talking to me again,"_ Yami Marik observed.

"Only to tell you one thing," Yami Bakura answered. "You have no power over me. I knew that once, but you devastated me so thoroughly that for a while I forgot. It was Bakura who reminded me." He stood up, his robe swirling around him. "You failed in what you attempted to do! You didn't, and never will, tame me."

Yami Marik snarled. _"You might think you've won now, but just wait,"_ he threatened. _"I wasn't destroyed. I'll be back in the flesh before long."_

"And you'll be beaten back again," Yami Bakura said. "You're forgetting that in spite of everything you did to me, it was I who cast you back into the darkness, where you belong."

_"Keh! You got lucky. Don't expect it to last."_

Yami Bakura ignored him now. Instead he threw the bone into the garbage can before pulling his robe close around him and then taking Bakura's father's coat off the rack. It was a bit of a tight fit, but it would do for the moment. After also stepping into the other man's boots, he threw open the door and regarded the piling white stuff in distaste.

"Yami!"

Bakura was down on the driveway, waving to him. He went across the porch and down the steps, heading over to his friend while cursing the freezing, falling snow.

"Will Father like you using his things?" Bakura asked in concern as he approached.

"He's in Austria," Yami Bakura smirked. "I doubt he'll know."

Bakura slowly nodded. "I suppose it's alright. . . ."

"How much is left to do?" Yami Bakura asked gruffly.

Bakura glanced around. "The rest of the driveway and the sidewalk in front," he reported.

Yami Bakura took the shovel from him and started scooping up the powder. But as it continued to fall from the sky, he glowered at it in irritation. "Is there even much point in this?" he said. "By the time it's shoveled, the same amount will have landed in its place!"

Bakura scratched his cheek. "Well, that's better than if you had to shovel it all at once," he said. "Then it would be so much heavier!"

Yami Bakura just grunted.

"Snow really isn't so bad, Yami," Bakura said cheerfully. "There's all kinds of things you can do with it. When you're done, I could introduce you to some of them."

"Like what?" Yami Bakura gave him a suspicious look.

"Like . . . snowballs?" Bakura suggested.

"You roll the snow into a ball. So what?" Yami Bakura tossed the latest shovelful onto the mountain that had been piling up at the edge of the lawn.

"Then you . . . well, you throw it at someone," Bakura said, beginning to wonder if he was digging himself into a pit.

"So they'll get angry at you?" Yami Bakura growled.

"So they'll throw one back," Bakura said. "It's actually quite fun. . . ."

Yami Bakura glanced up at him as he reached the end of the driveway and started on the sidewalk. "Tossing wadded-up ice crystals and getting people cold is fun?" he said.

Bakura rubbed the back of his neck. "If you throw it good enough, they shouldn't really get cold," he said.

"How?" Yami Bakura returned.

Bakura reached for the mountain of snow, taking a small portion and clumping it in his hands. "Like this," he said, and aimed for part of the coat. It struck the right shoulder, several pieces flying onto the astonished Thief King's face.

Both of them stood for a moment, not quite sure what had just happened. Then Yami Bakura reached up, brushing the snowflakes away from his tanned skin. "So," he said, "that's how you avoid getting people cold."

Bakura swallowed hard. "Um . . . I'm sorry, Yami, I really didn't intend for it to happen like that!" he gasped.

Yami Bakura leaned the shovel against the fence, taking a menacing step towards the hapless boy. He grabbed at the mountain himself, taking up a lump of snow.

Bakura did not wait. He fled around the side of the house, arms raised to the sky. "Help!" he exclaimed.

Yami Bakura tore after him, cutting a path in the thick snow blanketing the grass. "Come back here and take your snowball like a man!" he yelled, as the neighbors peered out of their windows and yards with google-eyed curiosity.

"I knew there was something strange about that cousin of the Bakuras'," one gossipy woman declared.

"If you ask me, they're all odd ducks," said another.

High above them, observing in the divine pool, the former high priest and pharaoh Seto shook his head in disbelief. "And that's the fearsome King of Thieves," he said.

Atem looked amused, watching with crossed arms as Yami Bakura finally got close enough to heave the snowball at Bakura's back. They both went down, struggling and wrestling in the snow.

"I don't know," Atem mused. "I think he's still fearsome."

Seto turned away from the pool. "So . . . he's been saved," he said, changing the subject. "The miracle happened, just like you said."

"Thanks to Bakura, yes," Atem said. "And the others. He might not have been found if it wasn't for Marik."

"And you," Seto said, looking to him. "Don't forget, you're the one who let Bakura and Yugi know there was still hope."

Atem slowly nodded. "There's still a long way to go," he said. "Not with his recovery, necessarily . . . but Yami Marik is still at large." He frowned. "They'll have to banish him again when he comes back."

"It's hard for you to accept that your mission is over, isn't it," Seto remarked. "You wish it was you down there banishing him."

"Is it wrong, that I can't help wanting to be with them . . . with Yugi?" Atem said. "Yes, I wish I was there."

He sighed. "But . . . I know they'll be fine. You're right---my time there is over. That's why we weren't able to directly interfere. It's Yugi and Bakura and the others who will be the next generation of the world's protectors."

"Both Bakuras, if _he'll_ accept it." Seto crossed his arms.

"I think he will," Atem said. "If nothing else, to protect Ryou."

Both of them stared into the pool again. Bakura had somehow pinned Yami Bakura to the ground, but it was doubtful it would last; he was dissolving into hysterical laughter.

Yami Bakura grabbed him, pulling him down into the snow. "Take that!" he declared.

Bakura yelped. "Yami, now you're getting _me_ cold!" he exclaimed.

"Serves you right!" Yami Bakura said. He sat up, brushing the snow out of his hair.

Bakura sat up too, clumps of white all through his white hair and dark coat. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Yami," he smiled. "I know this wouldn't even be happening if you weren't."

Yami Bakura grunted. ". . . There's still the shoveling to finish," he said.

"After that, how about we go inside for hot chocolate?" Bakura said hopefully.

Yami Bakura looked to him. "That's one winter tradition I like," he said.

Bakura perked up further. "And we can have marshmallows," he said.

"In the _chocolate?_" Yami Bakura said, looking incredulous.

Bakura nodded. "Or we could roast them in the fireplace," he said.

"I'll take my chocolate by itself," Yami Bakura said as he got up. "It doesn't need anything else in it to make it more interesting." He brushed himself off, then headed for the sidewalk.

Bakura scrambled up after him. "Yami, wait for me!" he called.

"Well, hurry up!" Yami Bakura retorted as he went down the driveway.

Atem nodded in approval, while Seto just looked appalled.

"They're an odd pair," he said.

"They are, but they'll be fine," Atem determined. He smiled a bit as the shoveling resumed, punctuated by Yami Bakura grumbling about snow. "Just fine."


End file.
